s save that
for people of their class it was remarkable that they should have no
servant. So far and no further went the doctor.

Finally we found our way to Scotland Yard. There had been difficulties
of procedure in regard to the warrant. Some delay was inevitable. The
magistrate's signature might not be obtained until next morning. If
Holmes would call about nine he could go down with Lestrade and see it
acted upon. So ended the day, save that near midnight our friend, the
sergeant, called to say that he had seen flickering lights here and
there in the windows of the great dark house, but that no one had left
it and none had entered. We could but pray for patience and wait for
the morrow.

Sherlock Holmes was too irritable for conversation and too restless for
sleep. I left him smoking hard, with his heavy, dark brows knotted
together, and his long, nervous fingers tapping upon the arms of his
chair, as he turned over in his mind every possible solution of the
mystery. Several times in the course of the night I heard him prowling
about the house. Finally, just after I had been called in the morning,
he rushed into my room. He was in his dressing-gown, but his pale,
hollow-eyed face told me that his night had been a sleepless one.

"What time was the funeral? Eight, was it not?" he asked eagerly.
"Well, it is 7:20 now. Good heavens, Watson, what has become of any
brains that God has given me? Quick, man, quick! It's life or death--a
hundred chances on death to one on life. I'll never forgive myself,
never, if we are too late!"

Five minutes had not passed before we were flying in a hansom down
Baker Street. But even so it was twenty-five to eight as we passed Big
Ben, and eight struck as we tore down the Brixton Road. But others
were late as well as we. Ten minutes after the hour the hearse was
still standing at the door of the house, and even as our foaming horse
came to a halt the coffin, supported by three men, appeared on the
threshold. Holmes darted forward and barred their way.

"Take it back!" he cried, laying his hand on the breast of the
foremost. "Take it back this instant!"

"What the devil do you mean? Once again I ask you, where is your
warrant?" shouted the furious Peters, his big red face glaring over the
farther end of the coffin.

"The warrant is on its way. The coffin shall remain in the house until
it comes."

The authority in Holmes's voice had its effect upon the beare