"We'll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to
have a little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal to it?"

"Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story."

"Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an
instant." I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my
wife, and in five minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my
new acquaintance to Baker Street.

Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his
sitting-room in his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The
Times and smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed
of all the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day
before, all carefully dried and collected on the corner of the
mantelpiece. He received us in his quietly genial fashion,
ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and joined us in a hearty meal.
When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance upon the
sofa, placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid a glass of
brandy and water within his reach.

"It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one,
Mr. Hatherley," said he. "Pray, lie down there and make yourself
absolutely at home. Tell us what you can, but stop when you are
tired and keep up your strength with a little stimulant."

"Thank you," said my patient. "but I have felt another man since
the doctor bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has
completed the cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable