suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me.
Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road 249, read Holmes.
Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger.
Holmes turned to the page indicated. Here you are, Mrs. Oakshott,
117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.
Now, then, what s the last entry?
December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7_s_. 6_d_.
Quite so. There you are. And underneath?
Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12_s_.
What have you to say now?
Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his
pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a
man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped
under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which
was peculiar to him.
When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the Pink un
protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet, said
he. I daresay that if I had put 100 down in front of him, that man
would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from him
by the idea that he was doing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, I
fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which remains
to be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott
to-night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear
from what that surly fellow said that there are others besides
ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should
His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out
from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little
rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light
which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the
162