The official, a smart, keen-faced young fellow, stepped into the room. “Good-morning, Colonel,” said he; “I hope I don’t intrude, but we hear that Mr. Holmes of Baker Street is here.” The Colonel waved his hand towards my friend, and the Inspector bowed. “We thought that perhaps you would care to step across, Mr. Holmes.” “The fates are against you, Watson,” said he, laughing. “We were chatting about the matter when you came in, Inspector. Perhaps you can let us have a few details.” As he leaned back in his chair in the familiar attitude I knew that the case was hopeless.
