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DarqueDante
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test2

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"That's no good."
"Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare."
"Ah, but I was recommended to you."
"Who by?"
"The landlord of the Alpha."
"Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen."
"Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?"
To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the
salesman.
"Now, then, mister," said he, with his head cocked and his arms
akimbo, "what are you driving at? Let's have it straight, now."
"It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese
which you supplied to the Alpha."
"Well then, I shan't tell you. So now!"
"Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don't know why you should
be so warm over such a trifle."
"Warm! You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When
I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the
business; but it's 'Where are the geese?' and 'Who did you sell the
geese to?' and 'What will you take for the geese?' One would think
they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made
over them."
"Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been
making inquiries," said Holmes carelessly. "If you won't tell us the
bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a
matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is
country bred."
"Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred," snapped the
salesman.
"It's nothing of the kind."
"I say it is."
"I don't believe it."
"D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them
ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to
the Alpha were town bred."
"You'll never persuade me to believe that."
"Will you bet, then?"
"It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I'll
have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate."
The salesman chuckled grimly. "Bring me the books, Bill," said he.
The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great
greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp.
"Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thought that I was
out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that there is still one
left in my shop. You see this little book?"
"Well?"
"That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. D'you see? Well, then,
here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their
names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You
see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town
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 7s. 6d.'"
"Quite so. There you are. And underneath?"
"'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.'"
"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.