He closed the door behind him, and then he stood with
clenched hands and heaving breast, choking down some
overmastering emotion.
"Sit down, Captain Croker. You got my telegram?"
Our visitor sank into an arm-chair and looked from one to the
other of us with questioning eyes.
"I got your telegram, and I came at the hour you said. I heard
that you had been down to the office. There was no getting away
from you. Let's hear the worst. What are you going to do with me?
Arrest me? Speak out, man! You can't sit there and play with me
like a cat with a mouse."
"Give him a cigar," said Holmes. "Bite on that, Captain Croker,
and don't let your nerves run away with you. I should not sit
here smoking with you if I thought that you were a common criminal,
you may be sure of that. Be frank with me, and we may do some good.
Play tricks with me, and I'll crush you."
"What do you wish me to do?"
"To give me a true account of all that happened at the Abbey
Grange last night -- a TRUE account, mind you, with nothing added
and nothing taken off. I know so much already that if you go
one inch off the straight I'll blow this police whistle from my
window and the affair goes out of my hands for ever.
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