step in.
Thank you, said Holmes, I only wished to ask you how you would go
from here to the Strand.
Third right, fourth left, answered the assistant promptly, closing
the door.
Smart fellow, that, observed Holmes as we walked away. He is, in my
judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am not
sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known something of him
before.
Evidently, said I, Mr. Wilson s assistant counts for a good deal in
this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you inquired your
way merely in order that you might see him.
Not him.
What then?
The knees of his trousers.
And what did you see?
What I expected to see.
Why did you beat the pavement?
My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We are
spies in an enemy s country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square.
Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it.
The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from
the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it as
the front of a picture does to the back. It was one of the main
arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City to the north and west.
The roadway was blocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in
a double tide inward and outward, while the footpaths were black with
the hurrying swarm of pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we
44