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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Return of Sherlock Holmes"

He found Holmes
leaning languidly against the mantelpiece, resigned and patient,
endeavouring to conceal his irrepressible yawns.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Holmes. I can see that you are
bored to death with the whole affair. Well, he has confessed,
all right. Come in here, MacPherson. Let these gentlemen hear
of your most inexcusable conduct."
The big constable, very hot and penitent, sidled into the room.
"I meant no harm, sir, I'm sure. The young woman came to the
door last evening -- mistook the house, she did. And then we
got talking. It's lonesome, when you're on duty here all day."
"Well, what happened then?"
"She wanted to see where the crime was done -- had read about
it in the papers, she said. She was a very respectable,
well-spoken young woman, sir, and I saw no harm in letting her
have a peep. When she saw that mark on the carpet, down she
dropped on the floor, and lay as if she were dead. I ran to the
back and got some water, but I could not bring her to. Then I
went round the corner to the Ivy Plant for some brandy, and by
the time I had brought it back the young woman had recovered and
was off -- ashamed of herself, I dare say, and dared not face me.


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