There is your hat, then, and there your bird, said he. By the way,
would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am
somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown
goose.
Certainly, sir, said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gained
property under his arm. There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha
Inn, near the Museum we are to be found in the Museum itself during the
day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name,
instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence
every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were
duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you,
sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity.
With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and
strode off upon his way.
So much for Mr. Henry Baker, said Holmes when he had closed the door
behind him. It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about
the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?
Not particularly.
Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up
this clue while it is still hot.
By all means.
It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats
about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a
cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke
like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as
we swung through the doctors quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street,
and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an
hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small
public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into
Holborn. Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two
glasses of beer from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord.
Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese, said
he.
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