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It is very clear to me now that he knew Gorgiano to be close upon him, and that, thank God, he was ready for him when he came.

And now, gentlemen, I would ask you whether we have anything to fear from the law, or whether any judge upon earth would condemn my Gennaro for what he has done?"

"Well, Mr. Gregson," said the American, looking across at the official, "I don't know what your British point of view may be, but I guess that in New York this lady's husband will receive a pretty general vote of thanks."

"She will have to come with me and see the chief," Gregson answered. "If what she says is corroborated, I do not think she or her husband has much to fear. But what I can't make head or tail of, Mr. Holmes, is how on earth you got yourself mixed up in the matter."

"Education, Gregson, education.

Still seeking knowledge at the old university.

Well, Watson, you have one more specimen of the tragic and grotesque to add to your collection.

By the way, it is not eight o'clock, and a Wagner night at Covent Garden! If we hurry, we might be in time for the second act."

In the third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fog settled down upon London.

From the Monday to the Thursday I doubt whether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to see the loom of the opposite houses.

The first day Holmes had spent in cross-indexing his huge book of references.

The second and third had been patiently occupied upon a subject which he had recently made his hobby - the music of the Middle Ages.

But when, for the fourth time, after pushing back our chairs from breakfast we saw the greasy, heavy brown swirl still drifting past us and condensing in oily drops upon the window-panes, my comrade's impatient and active nature could endure this drab existence no longer.

He paced restlessly about our sitting-room in a fever of suppressed energy, biting his nails, tapping the furniture, and chafing against inaction.

"Nothing of interest in the paper, Watson?" he said.

I was aware that by anything of interest, Holmes meant anything of criminal interest.

There was the news of a revolution, of a possible war, and of an impending change of government; but these did not come within the horizon of my companion.

I could see nothing recorded in the shape of crime which was not commonplace and futile.

Holmes groaned and resumed his restless meanderings.

"The London criminal is certainly a dull fellow," said he in the querulous voice of the sportsman whose game has failed him.

"Look out of this window, Watson.

See how the figures loom up, are dimly seen, and then blend once more into the cloudbank.

The thief or the murderer could roam London on such a day as the tiger does the jungle, unseen until he pounces, and then evident only to his victim."

"There have," said I, "been numerous petty thefts."

Chapter 4. The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans

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