"Well," said Pike, rising, "in case you take th' mill, Mr.
Holmes, I hope we'll be agreeable. I'll strive to do my
best,"--in the old fawning manner, to which Holmes nodded a curt
reply.
The man stopped for Sophy to gather up her bits of broken
"chayney" with which she was making a tea-party on the table, and
went down-stairs.
Towards evening Holmes went out,--not going through the narrow
passage that led to the offices, but avoiding it by a circuitous
route. If it cost him any pain to think why he did it, he showed
none in his calm, observant face. Buttoning up his coat as he
went: the October sunset looked as if it ought to be warm, but he
was deathly cold. On the street the young doctor beset him again
with bows and news: Cox was his name, I believe; the one, you
remember, who had such a Talleyrand nose for ferreting out
successful men. He had to bear with him but for a few moments,
however. They met a crowd of workmen at the corner, one of whom,
an old man freshly washed, with honest eyes looking out of horn
spectacles, waited for them by a fire-plug. It was Polston, the
coal-digger,--an acquaintance, a far-off kinsman of Holmes, in
fact.
"Curious person making signs to you, yonder," said Cox; "hand, I
presume."
"My cousin Polston. If you do not know him, you'll excuse me?"
Cox sniffed the air down the street, and twirled his rattan, as
he went. The coal-digger was abrupt and distant in his greeting,
going straight to business.
Pages:
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122