He was a
tall, handsome, swarthy fellow, clad in a suit of grey flannel,
with a Panama hat, a bristling black beard, and a great,
aggressive hooked nose, and flourishing a cane as he walked.
He swaggered up the path as if the place belonged to him,
and we heard his loud, confident peal at the bell.
"I think, gentlemen," said Holmes, quietly, "that we had best
take up our position behind the door. Every precaution is
necessary when dealing with such a fellow. You will need your
handcuffs, inspector. You can leave the talking to me."
We waited in silence for a minute -- one of those minutes which
one can never forget. Then the door opened and the man stepped
in. In an instant Holmes clapped a pistol to his head and Martin
slipped the handcuffs over his wrists. It was all done so swiftly
and deftly that the fellow was helpless before he knew that he was
attacked. He glared from one to the other of us with a pair of
blazing black eyes. Then he burst into a bitter laugh.
"Well, gentlemen, you have the drop on me this time. I seem to
have knocked up against something hard. But I came here in
answer to a letter from Mrs.
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