“I have said all I have to say,” said Gregson, in an offended voice.

 

Sherlock Holmes chuckled to himself, and appeared to be about to make some

remark, when Lestrade, who had been in the front room while we were holding this

conversation in the hall, reappeared upon the scene, rubbing his hands in a

pompous and self-satisfied manner.

 

“Mr. Gregson,” he said, “I have just made a discovery of the highest importance,

and one which would have been overlooked had I not made a careful examination of

the walls.”

 

The little man’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, and he was evidently in a state of

suppressed exultation at having scored a point against his colleague.

 

“Come here,” he said, bustling back into the room, the atmosphere of which felt

clearer since the removal of its ghastly inmate. “Now, stand there!”

 

He struck a match on his boot and held it up against the wall.

 

“Look at that!” he said, triumphantly.

 

I have remarked that the paper had fallen away in parts. In this particular

corner of the room a large piece had peeled off, leaving a yellow square of

coarse plastering. Across this bare space there was scrawled in blood-red