I don't suppose they remember faces
in so busy a place. Let us venture it."
"I am sorry to trouble you," said he, in his blandest manner,
to the young woman behind the grating; "there is some small
mistake about a telegram I sent yesterday. I have had no answer,
and I very much fear that I must have omitted to put my name
at the end. Could you tell me if this was so?"
The young woman turned over a sheaf of counterfoils.
"What o'clock was it?" she asked.
"A little after six."
"Whom was it to?"
Holmes put his finger to his lips and glanced at me.
"The last words in it were `for God's sake,'" he whispered,
confidentially; "I am very anxious at getting no answer."
The young woman separated one of the forms.
"This is it. There is no name," said she, smoothing it out
upon the counter.
"Then that, of course, accounts for my getting no answer,"
said Holmes. "Dear me, how very stupid of me, to be sure!
Good morning, miss, and many thanks for having relieved my mind."
He chuckled and rubbed his hands when we found ourselves in the
street once more.
"Well?" I asked.
"We progress, my dear Watson, we progress.
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