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 if you will give me a clear answer to my questions.”

“Well, I’ve had a good day and no mistake,” said the cabman, with a grin. “What was it you wanted to ask, sir?”

“First of all your name and address, in case I want you again.”

“John Clayton, 3, Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley’s Yard, near Waterloo Station.”

Sherlock Holmes made a note of it.

“Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o’clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street.”

The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed.

“Why, there’s no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already,” said he. “The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective, and that I was to say nothing about him to any one.”