"I don't know any more than you do, Jenkins," said Holmes, "save this, that old Bob Hollister isn't playing penny-ante. When he goes on to a job as elaborately as all this, you can bet your last dollar that the game runs into five figures, and, like a loyal subject of his Gracious Majesty King Edward VII, whom may the Lord save, he reckons not in dollars but in pounds sterling."
"Who can Cato be, I wonder?" I asked.
"We'll know at eight o'clock," said Holmes. "I intend to have him up."
"Up? Up where?" I asked.
"In Darlington's rooms—where else?" demanded Holmes.
"In four hundred and seven?" I gasped.
"Certainly—that's our headquarters, isn't it?" he grinned.
"Now see here, Raffles," I began.
"Shut up Jenkins," he answered. "Just hang on to your nerve—"
"But suppose Darlington turns up?"