Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets, his chin sunk upon
his breast, his eyes fixed upon the glowing embers. For half an hour he was silent and still. Then,
with the gesture of a man who has taken his decision, he sprang to his feet and passed into his
bedroom. A little later a rakish young workman, with a goatee beard and a swagger, lit his clay pipe
at the lamp before descending into the street. "I'll be back some time, Watson, ...