himself up in
his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to his hawk-like nose, and
there he sat with his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting
out like the bill of some strange bird. I had come to the conclusion
that he had dropped asleep, and indeed was nodding myself, when he
suddenly sprang out of his chair with the gesture of a man who has
made up his mind, and put his pipe down upon the mantel-piece.

"Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this afternoon," he remarked.
"What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare you for a few
hours?"

"I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very absorbing."

"Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the city first, and
we can have some lunch on the way. I observe that there is a good deal
of German music on the programme, which is rather more to my taste
than Italian or French. It is introspective, and I want to introspect.
Come along!"

We traveled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walk
took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which
we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky little shabby-genteel
place, where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked out
into a small railed-in inclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a
few clumps of faded laurel-bushes made a hard fight against a
smoke-laden and uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls, and a brown
board with "JABEZ WILSON" in white letters, upon a corner house,
announced the place where our red-headed client carried on his
business. Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it, with his head on
one side, and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly
between puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then
down again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally
he returned to the pawnbroker's, and having thumped vigorously upon
the pavement with his stick two or three times he went up to the door
and knocked. It was instantly opened by a bright-looking, clean-shaven
young fellow, who asked him to step in.

"Thank you," said Holmes, "I only wish to ask you how you would go
from here to the Strand."

"Third right, fourth left," answered the assistant, promptly, closing
the door.

"Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes, as we walked away. "He is, in
my judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am
not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known something
of him before."