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Page 37
There was a pause after the stock-broker's clerk had
concluded his surprising experience. Then Sherlock
Holmes cocked his eye at me, leaning back on the
cushions with a pleased and yet critical face, like a
connoisseur who has just taken his first sip of a
comet vintage.
"Rather fine, Watson, is it not?" said he. "There are
points in it which please me. I think that you will
agree with me that an interview with Mr. Arthur Harry
Pinner in the temporary offices of the Franco-Midland
Hardware Company, Limited, would be a rather
interesting experience for both of us."
"But how can we do it?" I asked.
"Oh, easily enough," said Hall Pycroft, cheerily.
"You are two friends of mine who are in want of a
billet, and what could be more natural than that I
should bring you both round to the managing director?"
"Quite so, of course," said Holmes. "I should like to
have a look at the gentleman, and see if I can make
anything of his little game. What qualities have you,
my friend, which would make your services so valuable?
or is it possible that--" He began biting his nails
and staring blankly out of the window, and we hardly
drew another word from him until we were in New
Street.
At seven o'clock that evening we were walking, the
three of us, down Corporation Street to the company's
offices.
"It is no use our being at all before our time," said
our client. "He only comes there to see me,
apparently, for the place is deserted up to the very
hour he names."
"That is suggestive," remarked Holmes.
"By Jove, I told you so!" cried the clerk. "That's he
walking ahead of us there."
He pointed to a smallish, dark, well-dressed man who
was bustling along the other side of the road. As we
watched him he looked across at a boy who was bawling
out the latest edition of the evening paper, and
running over among the cabs and busses, he bought one
from him. Then, clutching it in his hand, he vanished
through a door-way.
"There he goes!" cried Hall Pycroft. "These are the
company's offices into which he has gone. Come with
me, and I'll fix it up as easily as possible."
Following his lead, we ascended five stories, until we
found ourselves outside a half-opened door, at which
our client tapped. A voice within bade us enter, and
we entered a bare, unfurnished room such as Hall
Pycroft had described. At the single table sat the
man whom we had seen in the street, with his evening
paper spread out in front of him, and as he looked up
at us it seemed to me that I had never looked upon a
face which bore such marks of grief, and of something
beyond grief--of a horror such as comes to few men in
a lifetime. His brow glistened with perspiration, his
cheeks were of the dull, dead white of a fish's belly,
and his eyes were wild and staring. He looked at his
clerk as though he failed to recognize him, and I
could see by the astonishment depicted upon our
conductor's face that this was by no means the usual
appearance of his employer.
"You look ill, Mr. Pinner!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, I am not very well," answered the other, making
obvious efforts to pull himself together, and licking
his dry lips before he spoke. "Who are these
gentlemen whom you have brought with you?"
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