I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir.

He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face.

I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes ?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember ?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign.

There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information.

Good night!" "Good night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile.
"Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he.
"The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message.