“It has been a most remarkable experience.”
“That bandage tells of adventures,” said I. “Won’t you tell us what has happened?”
“After breakfast, my dear Watson. Remember that I have breathed thirty miles of Surrey air this morning. I suppose that there has been no answer from my cabman advertisement? Well, well, we cannot expect to score every time.”
The table was all laid, and just as I was about to ring Mrs. Hudson entered with the tea and coffee. A few minutes later she brought in three covers, and we all drew up to the table, Holmes ravenous, I curious, and Phelps in the gloomiest state of depression.
“ Mrs. Hudson has risen to the occasion,” said Holmes, uncovering a dish of curried chicken. “Her cuisine is a little limited, but she has as good an idea of breakfast as a Scotchwoman. What have you here, Watson?”
“Ham and eggs,” I answered.
“Good! What are you going to take, Mr. Phelps—curried fowl or eggs, or will you help yourself?”
“Thank you. I can eat nothing,” said Phelps.
“Oh, come! Try the dish before you.”
“Thank you, I would really rather not.”
“Well, then,” said Holmes, with a mischievous twinkle, “I suppose that you have no objection to helping me?”
Phelps raised the cover, and as he did so he uttered a scream, and sat there staring with a face as white as the plate upon which he looked. Across the