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other a man who will certainly get seven years’ penal servitude unless
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we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but
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confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of investigation
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which has been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has
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placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to
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the south, then, and quick march!
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We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag
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of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the
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name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a horsey-looking man,
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with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put up
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the shutters.
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“Good-evening. It’s a cold night, said Holmes.
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The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion.
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“Sold out of geese, I see, continued Holmes, pointing at the bare
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slabs of marble.
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“Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning.
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“That’s no good.
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“Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare.
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“Ah, but I was recommended to you.
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“Who by?
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“The landlord of the Alpha.
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“Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen.
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“Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?
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To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the
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salesman.
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“Now, then, mister, said he, with his head cocked and his arms akimbo,
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“what are you driving at? Let’s have it straight, now.
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“It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese
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which you supplied to the Alpha.
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“Well then, I shan’t tell you. So now!
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“Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don’t know why you should
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be so warm over such a trifle.
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“Warm! You’d be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When I
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pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the
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business; but it’s ‘Where are the geese?’ and ‘Who did you sell the
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geese to?’ and ‘What will you take for the geese?’ One would think they
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were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over
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them.
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“Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making
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inquiries, said Holmes carelessly. “If you won’t tell us the bet is
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off, that is all. But I’m always ready to back my opinion on a matter
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of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country
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bred.
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“Well, then, you’ve lost your fiver, for it’s town bred, snapped the
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salesman.
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“It’s nothing of the kind.
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“I say it is.
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“I don’t believe it.
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“D’you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them
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ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to the
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Alpha were town bred.
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“You’ll never persuade me to believe that.
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“Will you bet, then?
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“It’s merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I’ll
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have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate.
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The salesman chuckled grimly. “Bring me the books, Bill, said he.
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The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great
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greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp.
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“Now then, Mr. Cocksure, said the salesman, “I thought that I was out
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of geese, but before I finish you’ll find that there is still one left
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in my shop. You see this little book?
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“Well?
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“That’s the list of the folk from whom I buy. D’you see? Well, then,
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here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their
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names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You
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see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town
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suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me.
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