The Extraordinary Man interrupted him. He said, sarcastically,
“We have had a very pretty fairy tale, gentlemen—very pretty indeed. Now I would like to ask this young man a question or two.”
Some of the boys winced, and Ferguson said,
“I’m afraid Archy’s going to catch it now.”
The others lost their smiles and sobered down. Mr. Holmes said,
“Let us proceed to examine into this fairy-tale in a consecutive and orderly way—by geometrical progression, so to speak—linking detail to detail in a steadily advancing and remorselessly consistent and unassailable march upon this tinsel toy-fortress of error, the dream fabric of a callow-imagination. To begin with, young sir, I desire to ask you but three questions at present—at present. Did I understand you to say it was your opinion that the supposititious candle was lighted at about eight o’clock yesterday evening?”
“Yes, sir—about eight.”
“Could you say exactly eight?”
“Well, no, I couldn’t be that exact.”
“Um. If a person had been passing along there just about that time, he would have been almost sure to encounter that assassin, do you think?”