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He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a

massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was

dressed in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining

hat, neat brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet

his actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress

and features, for he was running hard, with occasional little

springs, such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to

set any tax upon his legs. As he ran he jerked his hands up and

down, waggled his head, and writhed his face into the most

extraordinary contortions.

"What on earth can be the matter with him?" I asked. "He is

looking up at the numbers of the houses."

"I believe that he is coming here," said Holmes, rubbing his

hands.

"Here?"