He made no remark, however, save
that, unless we hurried, we should be late for our appointment
with Lestrade. Sure enough, when we reached Baker Street the
detective was already there, and we found him pacing up and down
in a fever of impatience. His look of importance showed that
his day's work had not been in vain.
"Well?" he asked. "What luck, Mr. Holmes?"
"We have had a very busy day, and not entirely a wasted one,"
my friend explained. "We have seen both the retailers and also
the wholesale manufacturers. I can trace each of the busts now
from the beginning."
"The busts!" cried Lestrade. "Well, well, you have your own
methods, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and it is not for me to say a
word against them, but I think I have done a better day's work
than you. I have identified the dead man."
"You don't say so?"
"And found a cause for the crime."
"Splendid!"
"We have an inspector who makes a specialty of Saffron Hill and
the Italian quarter. Well, this dead man had some Catholic
emblem round his neck, and that, along with his colour, made me
think he was from the South. Inspector Hill knew him the moment
he caught sight of him.
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