particulars of the habits of the deceased. A great step had been gained by the

discovery of the address of the house at which he had boarded—a result which was

entirely due to the acuteness and energy of Mr. Gregson of Scotland Yard.

 

Sherlock Holmes and I read these notices over together at breakfast, and they

appeared to afford him considerable amusement.

 

“I told you that, whatever happened, Lestrade and Gregson would be sure to

score.”

 

“That depends on how it turns out.”

 

“Oh, bless you, it doesn’t matter in the least. If the man is caught, it will be

_on account_ of their exertions; if he escapes, it will be _in spite_ of their

exertions. It’s heads I win and tails you lose.

 

Whatever they do, they will have followers. ‘Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot

qui l’admire.’”

 

“What on earth is this?” I cried, for at this moment there came the pattering of

many steps in the hall and on the stairs, accompanied by audible expressions of

disgust upon the part of our landlady.

 

“It’s the Baker Street division of the detective police force,” said my

companion, gravely; and as he spoke there rushed into the room half a dozen of