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In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily from |
their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side. |
Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river, and |
dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the right and found |
ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well known to the force, |
and the two constables at the door saluted him. One of them held the |
horse's head while the other led us in. |
"Who is on duty?" asked Holmes. |
"Inspector Bradstreet, sir." |
"Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?" A tall, stout official had come down |
the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. "I |
wish to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet." "Certainly, Mr. |
Holmes. Step into my room here." It was a small, office-like room, |
with a huge ledger upon the table, and a telephone projecting from |
the wall. The inspector sat down at his desk. |
"What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?" |
"I called about that beggarman, Boone--the one who was charged with |
being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair, of |
Lee." |
"Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries." |
"So I heard. You have him here?" |
"In the cells." |
"Is he quiet?" |
"Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel." |
"Dirty?" |
"Yes, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his face is |
as black as a tinker's. Well, when once his case has been settled, he |
will have a regular prison bath; and I think, if you saw him, you |
would agree with me that he needed it." |
"I should like to see him very much." |
"Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave your |
bag." |
"No, I think that I'll take it." |
"Very good. Come this way, if you please." He led us down a passage, |
opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to |
a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side. |
"The third on the right is his," said the inspector. "Here it is!" He |
quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced |
through. |
"He is asleep," said he. "You can see him very well." |
We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his face |
towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He |
was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with a |
coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat. He |
was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which |
covered his face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness. A broad |
wheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by |
its contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that |
three teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright |
red hair grew low over his eyes and forehead. |
"He's a beauty, isn't he?" said the inspector. |
"He certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes. "I had an idea that he |
might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me." He |
opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my |
astonishment, a very large bath-sponge. |
"He! he! You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector. |
"Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very |
quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable figure." |
"Well, I don't know why not," said the inspector. "He doesn't look a |
credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?" He slipped his key into the |
lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The sleeper half |
turned, and then settled down once more into a deep slumber. Holmes |
stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it |
twice vigorously across and down the prisoner's face. |
"Let me introduce you," he shouted, "to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of |
Lee, in the county of Kent." |
Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man's face peeled off |
under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the coarse brown |
tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had seamed it across, and |
the twisted lip which had given the repulsive sneer to the face! A |
twitch brought away the tangled red hair, and there, sitting up in |
his bed, was a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and |
smooth-skinned, rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy |
bewilderment. Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a |
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