"What do you say to that, Mr. Baynes?"
Voice Reading
The country detective was a stout, puffy, red man, whose face was only redeemed from grossness by two extraordinarily bright eyes, almost hidden behind the heavy creases of cheek and brow. With a slow smile he drew a folded and discoloured scrap of paper from his pocket.
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"It was a dog-grate, Mr. Holmes, and he overpitched it. I picked this out unburned from the back of it."
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Holmes smiled his appreciation.
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"You must have examined the house very carefully to find a single pellet of paper."
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"I did, Mr. Holmes. It's my way. Shall I read it, Mr. Gregson?"
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The Londoner nodded.
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"The note is written upon ordinary cream-laid paper without watermark.
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It is a quarter-sheet.
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The paper is cut off in two snips with a short-bladed scissors.
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It has been folded over three times and sealed with purple wax, put on hurriedly and pressed down with some flat oval object.
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It is addressed to Mr. Garcia, Wisteria Lodge.
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It says: "Our own colours, green and white. Green open, white shut. Main stair, first corridor, seventh right, green baize. Godspeed. D.
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"It is a woman's writing, done with a sharp-pointed pen, but the address is either done with another pen or by someone else. It is thicker and bolder, as you see."
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"A very remarkable note," said Holmes, glancing it over.
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"I must compliment you, Mr. Baynes, upon your attention to detail in your examination of it.
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A few trifling points might perhaps be added.
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The oval seal is undoubtedly a plain sleeve-link-what else is of such a shape? The scissors were bent nail scissors.
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Short as the two snips are, you can distinctly see the same slight curve in each."
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The country detective chuckled.
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"I thought I had squeezed all the juice out of it, but I see there was a little over," he said. "I'm bound to say that I make nothing of the note except that there was something on hand, and that a woman, as usual was at the bottom of it."
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Mr. Scott Eccles had fidgeted in his seat during this conversation.
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"I am glad you found the note, since it corroborates my story," said he. "But I beg to point out that I have not yet heard what has happened to Mr. Garcia, nor what has become of his household."
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"As to Garcia," said Gregson, "that is easily answered.
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He was found dead this morning upon Oxshott Common, nearly a mile from his home.
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