Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river, and dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the right and found ourselves in Bow Street.

Sherlock Holmes was well known to the force, and the two constables at the door saluted him.

One of them held the horse's head while the other led us in.
"Who is on duty ?" asked Holmes.
"Inspector Bradstreet, sir." "Ah, Bradstreet, how are you ?" A tall, stout official had come down the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket.

"I wish to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet." "Certainly, Mr.Holmes.Step into my room here." It was a small, office-like room, with a huge ledger upon the table, and a telephone projecting from the wall.

The inspector sat down at his desk.
"What can I do for you, Mr.Holmes ?" "I called about that beggarman, Boone--the one who was charged with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr.Neville St.
Clair, of Lee." "Yes.