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Page 38
"One is Mr. Harris, of Bermondsey, and the other is
Mr. Price, of this town," said our clerk, glibly.
"They are friends of mine and gentlemen of experience,
but they have been out of a place for some little
time, and they hoped that perhaps you might find an
opening for them in the company's employment."
"Very possibly! Very possibly!" cried Mr. Pinner with
a ghastly smile. "Yes, I have no doubt that we shall
be able to do something for you. What is your
particular line, Mr. Harris?"
"I am an accountant," said Holmes.
"Ah yes, we shall want something of the sort. And
you, Mr. Price?"
"A clerk," said I.
"I have every hope that the company may accommodate
you. I will let you know about it as soon as we come
to any conclusion. And now I beg that you will go.
For God's sake leave me to myself!"
These last words were shot out of him, as though the
constraint which he was evidently setting upon himself
had suddenly and utterly burst asunder. Holmes and I
glanced at each other, and Hall Pycroft took a step
towards the table.
"You forget, Mr. Pinner, that I am here by appointment
to receive some directions from you," said he.
"Certainly, Mr. Pycroft, certainly," the other resumed
in a calmer tone. "You may wait here a moment; and
there is no reason why your friends should not wait
with you. I will be entirely at your service in three
minutes, if I might trespass upon your patience so
far." He rose with a very courteous air, and, bowing
to us, he passed out through a door at the farther end
of the room, which he closed behind him.
"What now?" whispered Holmes. "Is he giving us the
slip?"
"Impossible," answered Pycroft.
"Why so?"
"That door leads into an inner room."
"There is no exit?"
"None."
"Is it furnished?"
"It was empty yesterday."
"Then what on earth can he be doing? There is
something which I don't understand in his manner. If
ever a man was three parts mad with terror, that man's
name is Pinner. What can have put the shivers on
him?"
"He suspects that we are detectives," I suggested.
"That's it," cried Pycroft.
Holmes shook his head. "He did not turn pale. He was
pale when we entered the room," said he. "It is just
possible that--"
His words were interrupted by a sharp rat-tat from the
direction of the inner door.
"What the deuce is he knocking at his own door for?"
cried the clerk.
Again and much louder cam the rat-tat-tat. We all
gazed expectantly at the closed door. Glancing at
Holmes, I saw his face turn rigid, and he leaned
forward in intense excitement. Then suddenly came a
low guggling, gargling sound, and a brisk drumming
upon woodwork. Holmes sprang frantically across the
room and pushed at the door. It was fastened on the
inner side. Following his example, we threw ourselves
upon it with all our weight. One hinge snapped, then
the other, and down came the door with a crash.
Rushing over it, we found ourselves in the inner room.
It was empty.
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