We took Toby round to each in
turn, but though he sniffed earnestly he made no sign.
Close to the rude landing-stage was a small brick house, with
a wooden placard slung out through the second window. "Mordecai
Smith" was printed across it in large letters, and, underneath,
"Boats to hire by the hour or day." A second inscription above
the door informed us that a steam launch was kept -- a statement
which was confirmed by a great pile of coke upon the jetty.
Sherlock Holmes looked slowly round, and his face assumed an
ominous expression.
"This looks bad," said he. "These fellows are sharper than I
expected. They seem to have covered their tracks. There has, I
fear, been preconcerted management here."
He was approaching the door of the house, when it opened,
and a little curly-headed lad of six came running out, followed by
a stoutish, red-faced woman with a large sponge in her hand.
"You come back and be washed, Jack," she shouted. "Come
back, you young imp; for if your father comes home and finds
you like that he'll let us hear of it."
"Dear little chap!" said Holmes strategically. "What a rosy-
cheeked young rascal! Now, Jack, is there anything you would
like?"
The youth pondered for a moment.
"I'd like a shillin'," said he.
"Nothing you would like better?"
"I'd like two shillin' better," the prodigy answered after some
thought.
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