Our guest continued telling us his story...
The man threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my companion’s knees.
The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe.
I’ve had enough of you and your geese!
“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.”
Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord.
Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I found myself in Baker Street once more.
‘Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.’
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He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me.
About four o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road.
I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season.
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