"What are we here for at all? I really think that you might
treat us with more frankness."
Holmes laughed. "Watson insists that I am the dramatist in real
life," said he. "Some touch of the artist wells up within me,
and calls insistently for a well-staged performance. Surely our
profession, Mr. Mac, would be a drab and sordid one if we did not
sometimes set the scene so as to glorify our results. The blunt
accusation, the brutal tap upon the shoulder--what can one make
of such a denouement? But the quick inference, the subtle trap,
the clever forecast of coming events, the triumphant vindication
of bold theories--are these not the pride and the justification
of our life's work? At the present moment you thrill with the
glamour of the situation and the anticipation of the hunt. Where
would be that thrill if I had been as definite as a timetable? I
only ask a little patience, Mr. Mac, and all will be clear to
you."
"Well, I hope the pride and justification and the rest of it will
come before we all get our death of cold," said the London
detective with comic resignation.
We all had good reason to join in the aspiration; for our vigil
was a long and bitter one.
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