‘Ah! I don’t know him. Well, here’s your good health, landlord, and prosperity to your house. Good- night!
‘Now for Mr Breckinridge,’ he continued, buttoning up his coat, as we came out into the frosty air. ‘Remember, Watson, that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years’ penal servitude, unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!’
We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums of Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor, a horsey- looking man with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers, was helping a boy to put up the shutters.
‘Good evening, it’s a cold night,’ said Holmes.
The salesman nodded, and shot a questioning glance at my companion.
‘Sold out of geese, I see,’ continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble.
‘Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning.’
‘That’s no good.’
‘Well, there are some on the stall with the gas flare.’
‘Oh, but I was recommended to you.’
‘Who by?’
‘The landlord of the “Alpha”.’
‘Ah, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen.’
‘Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?’
To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the salesman.
‘Now then, mister,’ said he, with his head cocked and his arms akimbo, ‘what are you driving at? Let’s have it straight, now.’
‘It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the “Alpha”.’
‘Well, then, I shan’t tell you. So now!’
‘Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don’t know why you should be so warm over such a trifle.’
‘Warm! You’d be as warm, maybe, if you were pestered as I am. When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the business; but it’s “Where are the geese?” and “Who did you sell the geese to?” and “What will you take for the geese?” One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over them.’
‘Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making inquiries,’ said Holmes carelessly. ‘If you won’t tell us the bet is off, that is all. But I’m always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country bred.’
‘Well, then, you’ve lost your fiver, for it’s town bred,’ snapped the salesman.