The Adventure of the Red Circle | Page 6

is definite
enough. I think after breakfast we must make a little reconnaissance of Mrs. Warren's
neighbourhood. Ah, Mrs. Warren! what news do you bring us this morning?"
Our client had suddenly burst into the room with an explosive energy which told of some
new and momentous development.
"It's a police matter, Mr. Holmes!" she cried. "I'll have no more of it! He shall pack out of
there with his baggage. I would have gone straight up and told him so, only I thought it
was but fair to you to take your opinion first. But I'm at the end of my patience, and when
it comes to knocking my old man about--"
"Knocking Mr. Warren about?"
"Using him roughly, anyway."
"But who used him roughly?"
"Ah! that's what we want to know! It was this morning, sir. Mr. Warren is a timekeeper at
Morton and Waylight's, in Tottenham Court Road. He has to be out of the house before
seven. Well, this morning he had not gone ten paces down the road when two men came
up behind him, threw a coat over his head, and bundled him into a cab that was beside the
curb. They drove him an hour, and then opened the door and shot him out. He lay in the
roadway so shaken in his wits that he never saw what became of the cab. When he picked
himself up he found he was on Hampstead Heath; so he took a bus home, and there he
lies now on his sofa, while I came straight round to tell you what had happened."
"Most interesting," said Holmes. "Did he observe the appearance of these men--did he
hear them talk?"
"No; he is clean dazed. He just knows that he was lifted up as if by magic and dropped as
if by magic. Two a least were in it, and maybe three."
"And you connect this attack with your lodger?"
"Well, we've lived there fifteen years and no such happenings ever came before. I've had
enough of him. Money's not everything. I'll have him out of my house before the day is
done."
"Wait a bit, Mrs. Warren. Do nothing rash. I begin to think that this affair may be very
much more important than appeared at first sight. It is clear now that some danger is
threatening your lodger. It is equally clear that his enemies, lying in wait for him near
your door, mistook your husband for him in the foggy morning light. On discovering
their mistake they released him. What they would have done had it not been a mistake,
we can only conjecture."
"Well, what am I to do, Mr. Holmes?"

"I have a great fancy to see this lodger of yours, Mrs. Warren."
"I don't see how that is to be managed, unless you break in the door. I always hear him
unlock it as I go down the stair after I leave the tray."
"He has to take the tray in. Surely we could conceal ourselves and see him do it."
The landlady thought for a moment.
"Well, sir, there's the box-room opposite. I could arrange a looking-glass, maybe, and if
you were behind the door--"
"Excellent!" said Holmes. "When does he lunch?"
"About one, sir."
"Then Dr. Watson and I will come round in time. For the present, Mrs. Warren,
good-bye."
At half-past twelve we found ourselves upon the steps of Mrs. Warren's house--a high,
thin, yellow-brick edifice in Great Orme Street, a narrow thoroughfare at the northeast
side of the British Museum. Standing as it does near the corner of the street, it commands
a view down Howe Street, with its ore pretentious houses. Holmes pointed with a chuckle
to one of these, a row of residential flats, which projected so that they could not fail to
catch the eye.
"See, Watson!" said he. "'High red house with stone facings.' There is the signal station
all right. We know the place, and we know the code; so surely our task should be simple.
There's a 'to let' card in that window. It is evidently an empty flat to which the
confederate has access. Well, Mrs. Warren, what now?"
"I have it all ready for you. If you will both come up and leave your boots below on the
landing, I'll put you there now."
It was an excellent hiding-plate which she had arranged. The mirror was so placed that,
seated in the dark, we could very plainly see the door opposite. We had hardly settled
down in it, and Mrs. Warren left us, when a distant tinkle announced that our mysterious
neighbour had rung. Presently the landlady appeared with the tray, laid it down upon a
chair beside the closed door, and then, treading heavily, departed. Crouching together in
the