I find it recorded in my notebook that it was a bleak
and windy day towards the end of March in the year 1892.
Holmes had received a telegram whilst we sat at our lunch,
and he had scribbled a reply. He made no remark, but the
matter reminded in his thougts, for he stood in front of
the fire afterwards with a thoughful face, smoking his pipe,
and casting an occasional glance at the message. Suddenly
he turned upon me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
