DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74

"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
salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was shaking his fists
fiercely at the cringing figure.

"I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "I wish you were
all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with
your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here
and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the
geese off you?"

"No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little man.

"Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it."

"She told me to ask you."

"Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I've had
enough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward, and the
inquirer flitted away into the darkness.

"Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes.
"Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow."
Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the
flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and
touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round, and I could see in
the gas-light that every vestige of colour had been driven from his
face.

"Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quavering voice.

"You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help
overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I
think that I could be of assistance to you."

"You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?"

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other
people don't know."

"But you can know nothing of this?"

"Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to trace
some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a
salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the
Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member."

"Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried the
little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. "I can
hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter."

Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "In that
case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this
wind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me, before we go
farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting."

The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," he
answered with a sidelong glance.

"No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always awkward
doing business with an alias."

A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Well then," said
he, "my real name is James Ryder."

"Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step
into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which
you would wish to know."

The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with
half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he
is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped
into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at
Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high,
thin breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and
unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous tension within him.

"Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. "The
fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder.
Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we
settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what
became of those geese?"

"Yes, sir."

"Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in

"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

salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was shaking his fists

fiercely at the cringing figure.

"I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "I wish you were

all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with

your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here

and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the

geese off you?"

"No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little man.

"Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it."

"She told me to ask you."

"Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I've had

enough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward, and the

inquirer flitted away into the darkness.

"Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes.

"Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow."

Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the

flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and

touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round, and I could see in

the gas-light that every vestige of colour had been driven from his

face.

"Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quavering voice.

"You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help

overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I

think that I could be of assistance to you."

"You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?"

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other

people don't know."

"But you can know nothing of this?"

"Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to trace

some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a

salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the

Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member."

"Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried the

little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. "I can

hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter."

Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "In that

case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this

wind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me, before we go

farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting."

The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," he

answered with a sidelong glance.

"No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always awkward

doing business with an alias."

A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Well then," said

he, "my real name is James Ryder."

"Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step

into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which

you would wish to know."

The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with

half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he

is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped

into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at

Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high,

thin breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and

unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous tension within him.

"Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. "The

fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder.

Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we

settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what

became of those geese?"

"Yes, sir."

"Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in