anything to do with the matter?
It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely
innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was
of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That,
however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer
to our advertisement.
And you can do nothing until then?
Nothing.
In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come
back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like
to see the solution of so tangled a business.
Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe.
By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask Mrs.
Hudson to examine its crop.
I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six
when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I approached the
house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was
buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which
was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was opened,
and we were shown up together to Holmes room.
Mr. Henry Baker, I believe, said he, rising from his armchair and
greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so
readily assume. Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a
cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for
summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right
time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?
Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat.
He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad,
intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown. A
touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his extended
hand, recalled Holmes surmise as to his habits. His rusty black
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