"Come now, get on your hat," said I. "I want you to go out with me."
"What for, Jenkins?" he almost snarled.
"You'll see what for," said I.
And Raffles Holmes obeying, we walked down to the river's edge, where I stood for a moment, and then hurled the remaining stones far out into the waters.
Holmes gave a gasp and then a sigh of relief.
"There," I said. "It doesn't matter much to us now whether the confounded things were real or not."
V THE ADVENTURE OF THE BRASS CHECK
"Jenkins," said Raffles Holmes to me the other night as we sat in my den looking over the criminal news in the evening papers, in search of some interesting material for him to work on, "this paper says that Mrs. Wilbraham Ward-Smythe has gone to Atlantic City for a week, and will lend her gracious presence to the social functions of the Hotel Garrymore, at that interesting city by the sea, until Monday, the 27th, when she will depart for Chicago, where her sister is to be married on the 29th. How would you like to spend the week with me at the Garrymore?"
"It all depends upon what we are going for," said I. "Also, what in thunder has Mrs. Wilbraham Ward-Smythe got to do with us, or we with her?"
"Nothing at all," said Holmes. "That is, nothing much."