Holmes’s expression was as impassive as ever under the jeers of his antagonist, but his clenched hands betrayed his acute annoyance.

“I am going through your house,” said he.

“Are you, though!” cried Peters as a woman’s voice and heavy steps sounded in the passage. “We’ll soon see about that. This way, officers, if you please. These men have forced their way into my house, and I cannot get rid of them. Help me to put them out.”

A sergeant and a constable stood in the doorway. Holmes drew his card from his case.

“This is my name and address. This is my friend, Dr. Watson.”

“Bless you, sir, we know you very well,” said the sergeant, “but you can’t stay here without a warrant.”

“Of course not. I quite understand that.”