"Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thought that Iwas out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that there isstill one left in my shop. You see this little book?"
"Well?"
"That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. D'you see? Well,then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbersafter their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger.Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is alist of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Justread it out to me."
"Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road--249," read Holmes.
"Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger."
Holmes turned to the page indicated. "Here you are, 'Mrs.Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.'"
"Now, then, what's the last entry?"
"'December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.'"
"Quite so. There you are. And underneath?"
"'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.'"
"What have you to say now?"
Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign fromhis pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with theair of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards offhe stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiselessfashion which was peculiar to him.
"When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the 'Pink 'un'protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,"said he. "I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front ofhim, that man would not have given me such complete informationas was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on awager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of ourquest, and the only point which remains to be determined iswhether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, orwhether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from whatthat surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselveswho are anxious about the matter, and I should--"
His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which brokeout from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw alittle rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle ofyellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, whileBreckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, wasshaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure.
"I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "I wish youwere all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any morewith your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs.Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to do withit? Did I buy the geese off you?"
"No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the littleman.
"Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it."
"She told me to ask you."
"Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I've hadenough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward, andthe inquirer flitted away into the darkness.
"Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes."Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of thisfellow." Striding through the scattered knots of people wholounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtookthe little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He spranground, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige ofcolour had been driven from his face.
"Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quaveringvoice.
"You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not helpoverhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now.I think that I could be of assistance to you."
"You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?"
"My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what otherpeople don't know."
"But you can know nothing of this?"
"Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring totrace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of BrixtonRoad, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr.Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr.Henry Baker is a member."
"Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," criedthe little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers."I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter."
Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "In thatcase we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in thiswind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me, before wego farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting."
The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," heanswered with a sidelong glance.
"No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is alwaysawkward doing business with an alias."