The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as I
was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of those
all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, when I
would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and
find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast in the
morning. He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at the
message, threw it across to me.
Just look up the trains in Bradshaw, said he, and turned back to his
chemical studies.
The summons was a brief and urgent one.
Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow,
it said. Do come! I am at my wit s end.
HUNTER.
Will you come with me? asked Holmes, glancing up.
I should wish to.
Just look it up, then.
There is a train at half-past nine, said I, glancing over my
Bradshaw. It is due at Winchester at 11:30.
That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my
analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the
morning.
By eleven o clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old
English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the
way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them
down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a
light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across
from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was
an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man s energy.
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