That razor brain
blunted and rusted with inaction.
Sherlock Holmes's eyes glistened, his pale cheeks took a warmer
hue, and his whole eager face shone with an inward light when the
call for work reached him. Leaning forward in the cab, he
listened intently to MacDonald's short sketch of the problem
which awaited us in Sussex. The inspector was himself dependent,
as he explained to us, upon a scribbled account forwarded to him
by the milk train in the early hours of the morning. White
Mason, the local officer, was a personal friend, and hence
MacDonald had been notified much more promptly than is usual at
Scotland Yard when provincials need their assistance. It is a
very cold scent upon which the Metropolitan expert is generally
asked to run.
"DEAR INSPECTOR MACDONALD [said the letter which he read to us]:
"Official requisition for your services is in separate envelope.
This is for your private eye. Wire me what train in the morning
you can get for Birlstone, and I will meet it--or have it met if
I am too occupied. This case is a snorter. Don't waste a moment
in getting started. If you can bring Mr.
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