“Ah!” he exclaimed, “the postman.”
The man entered, shown in by the servant.
“Two registered letters, sir ... if you will sign, please?”
Sholmes signed the receipts, accompanied the man to the door, and was opening one of the letters as he returned.
“It seems to please you,” remarked Wilson, after a moment’s silence.
“This letter contains a very interesting proposition. You are anxious for a case—here’s one. Read——”
Wilson read:
“Monsieur,
“I desire the benefit of your services and experience. I have been the victim of a serious theft, and the investigation has as yet been unsuccessful. I am sending to you by this mail a number of newspapers which will inform you of the affair, and if you will undertake the case, I will place my house at your disposal and ask you to fill in the enclosed check, signed by me, for whatever sum you require for your expenses.
“Kindly reply by telegraph, and much oblige,
“Your humble servant,
“Baron Victor d’Imblevalle,
“18 rue Murillo, Paris.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Sholmes, “that sounds good ... a little trip to Paris ... and why not, Wilson? Since my famous duel with Arsène Lupin, I have not had an excuse to go there. I should be pleased to visit the capital of the world under less strenuous conditions.”