“Ah!... and you gave it to him?”
“Certainly; on the strength of your letter and card.”
“Of course ... of course.”
They left the hotel and walked, slowly and thoughtfully, through the Champs-Elysées. The avenue was bright and cheerful beneath a clear autumn sun; the air was mild and pleasant.
At Rond-Point, Herlock Sholmes lighted his pipe. Then Wilson spoke:
“I can’t understand you, Sholmes. You are so calm and unruffled. They play with you as a cat plays with a mouse, and yet you do not say a word.”
Sholmes stopped, as he replied:
“Wilson, I was thinking of your card.”
“Well?”
“The point is this: here is a man who, in view of a possible struggle with us, procures specimens of our handwriting, and who holds, in his possession, one or more of your cards. Now, have you considered how much precaution and skill those facts represent?”