"You're a queer duck, Jenkins," grinned Holmes. "Here you are with a front seat at what promises to be one of the greatest shows on earth, a real live melodrama, and all you can think of is home and mother. Brace up—for here he is."
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," said Holmes, cheerily.
A tall cadaverous-looking man opened the door and entered. As his eye fell upon us, he paused on the threshold.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I—I'm afraid I'm in the wrong—"
"Not at all—come in and sit down," said Holmes, cordially. "That is if you are our friend and partner, Cato—Darlington couldn't wait—"
"Couldn't wait?" said Cato.
"Nope," said Holmes. "He was very much annoyed by the delay, Cato. You see he's on bigger jobs than this puny little affair of Bar, LeDuc's, and your failure to appear on schedule time threw him out. Pearls aren't the only chips in Darlington's game, my boy."
"Well—I couldn't help it," said Cato. "Bar, LeDuc's messenger didn't get down there until five minutes of six."
"Why should that have kept you until eight?" said Holmes.