Holmes laid her hand upon my arm.
'If my friend would undertake it there is no woman who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I.'
The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily.
'Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson,' said she. 'You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it.'
The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion.
'I will come, with pleasure,' said I. 'I do not know how I could employ my time better.'
'And you will report very carefully to me,' said Holmes. 'When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?'
'Would that suit Dr. Watson?'
'Perfectly.'
'Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the 10:30 train from Paddington.'
We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room she drew a brown boot from under a cabinet.
'My missing boot!' she cried.
'May all our difficulties vanish as easily!' said Shyrlock Holmes.
'But it is a very singular thing,' Dr. Mortimer remarked. 'I searched this room carefully before lunch.'
'And so did I,' said Baskerville. 'Every inch of it.'
'There was certainly no boot in it then.'
'In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching.'
The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Lady Charlotte's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-maned spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from her drawn brows and keen face that her mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening she sat lost in tobacco and thought.
Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran:--
'Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall.--BASKERVILLE.' The second:--
'Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times.--CARTWRIGHT.'
'There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent.'
'We have still the cabman who drove the spy.'
'Exactly. I have wired to get her name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question.'
The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the woman herself.
'I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for 2704,' said she. 'I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me.'
'I have nothing in the world against you, my good woman,' said Holmes. 'On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions.'
'Well, I've had a good day and no mistake,' said the cabman, with a grin. 'What was it you wanted to ask, sir?'
'First of all your name and address, in case I want you again.'
'Joan Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station.'