I
caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of
Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping
through the shouting crowd, I made my way to the corner of the street, and
in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to get
away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for some
few minutes, until we had turned down one of the quiet streets which led
toward the Edgeware Road.
"You did it very nicely, doctor," he remarked. "Nothing could have been
better. It is all right."
"You have the photograph?"
"I know where it is."
"And how did you find out?"
"She showed me, as I told you that she would."
"I am still in the dark."
"I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The matter was
perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an
accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening."
"I guessed as much."
"Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm
of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and
became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick."
"That also I could fathom."
"Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could she
do? And into her sitting room, which was the very room which I suspected.
It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which.
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