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