"Talk
away, Mr. Holmes. I'm just loving it. It's fine!"
Holmes smiled. He was always warmed by genuine admiration--the
characteristic of the real artist. "What about Birlstone?" he
asked.
"We've time yet," said the inspector, glancing at his watch.
"I've a cab at the door, and it won't take us twenty minutes to
Victoria. But about this picture: I thought you told me once,
Mr. Holmes, that you had never met Professor Moriarty."
"No, I never have."
"Then how do you know about his rooms?"
"Ah, that's another matter. I have been three times in his
rooms, twice waiting for him under different pretexts and leaving
before he came. Once--well, I can hardly tell about the once to
an official detective. It was on the last occasion that I took
the liberty of running over his papers--with the most unexpected
results."
"You found something compromising?"
"Absolutely nothing. That was what amazed me. However, you have
now seen the point of the picture. It shows him to be a very
wealthy man. How did he acquire wealth? He is unmarried. His
younger brother is a station master in the west of England.
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