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His form had filled out, his wrinkles were gone, the dull eyes

had regained their fire, and there, sitting by the fire and

grinning at my surprise, was none other than Sherlock Holmes. He

made a slight motion to me to approach him, and instantly, as he

turned his face half round to the company once more, subsided

into a doddering, loose-lipped senility.

"Holmes!" I whispered, "what on earth are you doing in this den?"

"As low as you can," he answered; "I have excellent ears. If you

would have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend

of yours I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with

you."

"I have a cab outside."

"Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for he

appears to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should

recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to

say that you have thrown in your lot with me. If you will wait

outside, I shall be with you in five minutes."