I was already
asleep when I was partly awakened by his entrance.
"Well, Holmes," I murmured, "have you found anything out?"
He stood beside me in silence, his candle in his hand. Then the
tall, lean figure inclined towards me. "I say, Watson," he
whispered, "would you be afraid to sleep in the same room with a
lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind
has lost its grip?"
"Not in the least," I answered in astonishment.
"Ah, that's lucky," he said, and not another word would he utter
that night.
Chapter 7 - The Solution
Next morning, after breakfast, we found Inspector MacDonald and
White Mason seated in close consultation in the small parlour of
the local police sergeant. On the table in front of them were
piled a number of letters and telegrams, which they were
carefully sorting and docketing. Three had been placed on one
side.
"Still on the track of the elusive bicyclist?" Holmes asked
cheerfully. "What is the latest news of the ruffian?"
MacDonald pointed ruefully to his heap of correspondence.
"He is at present reported from Leicester, Nottingham,
Southampton, Derby, East Ham, Richmond, and fourteen other
places.
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