The Return of Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle

“What’s this, then?” said Lestrade at last. “What have you been doing all this time, eh?” Oldacre gave an uneasy laugh, shrinking back from the furious red face of the angry detective. “I have done no harm.” “No harm? You have done your best to get an innocent man hanged. If it wasn’t for this gentleman here, I am not sure that you would not have succeeded.” The wretched creature began to whimper. “I am sure, sir, it was only my practical joke.” “Oh! a joke, was it? You won’t find the laugh on your side, I promise you. Take him down and keep him in the sitting-room until I come. Mr. Holmes,” he continued, when they had gone, “I could not speak before the constables, but I don’t mind saying, in the presence of Dr. Watson, that this is the brightest thing that you have done yet, though it is a mystery to me how you did it. You have saved an innocent man’s life, and you have prevented a very grave scandal, which would have ruined my reputation in the Force.” Holmes smiled and clapped Lestrade upon the shoulder.