I picked
up a chair, but Holmes shook his head and I laid it down again.
With bow, a smile, and a twinkle Milverton was out of the room,
and a few moments after we heard the slam of the carriage door
and the rattle of the wheels as he drove away.
Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his
trouser pockets, his chin sunk upon his breast, his eyes fixed
upon the glowing embers. For half an hour he was silent and
still. Then, with the gesture of a man who has taken his
decision, he sprang to his feet and passed into his bedroom.
A little later a rakish young workman with a goatee beard and a
swagger lit his clay pipe at the lamp before descending into the
street. "I'll be back some time, Watson," said he, and vanished
into the night. I understood that he had opened his campaign
against Charles Augustus Milverton; but I little dreamed the
strange shape which that campaign was destined to take.
For some days Holmes came and went at all hours in this attire,
but beyond a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead,
and that it was not wasted, I knew nothing of what he was doing.
At last, however, on a wild, tempestuous evening, when the wind
screamed and rattled against the windows, he returned from his
last expedition, and having removed his disguise he sat before
the fire and laughed heartily in his silent inward fashion.
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