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I'll put more sausages under the grill
There will be a gentleman joining us, in about four minutes," " We will need another place at table
Very Good
And if Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard cannot publically seen to come into the parlour of London's only consulting detective, yet comes anyway, and without having had his breakfast, Then I know that his is not a routine case. Ergo, it involves those above us and is a matter of national important
My stars, Surely the words cannot be out already, Tell me it is not.
In about 4 minutes
Of course not, I know the squeak of your brougham wheels, though after all this time an oscillating G sharp above high C.
Come in Lestrade," " The door is ajar, then your sausages are just coming out from under the grill
No one has told me anything of the matter. Then a police inspector walks in to my room with fresh splashes of mud of that peculiar yellow hue on his boots and trouser-legs, I can surely be forgiven for presuming that he has recently walked past the digging at Hobbs Lane, in Shoreditch, which is the only place in London that particular mustard-coloured clay seems to be found
This is too bad! Here you were, making a sport of me, when you know all about the matter! You should be ashamed --
Where do we go to Shoreditch?

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