On the contrary, she
gave a toss of her proud head, as though the matter were one in
which she took small interest.
"It is for Mr. Thaddeus Sholto that I am anxious," she said.
"Nothing else is of any consequence; but I think that he has
behaved most kindly and honourably throughout. It is our duty to
clear him of this dreadful and unfounded charge."
It was evening before I left Camberwell, and quite dark by the
time I reached home. My companion's book and pipe lay by his
chair, but he had disappeared. I looked about in the hope of
seeing a note, but there was none.
"I suppose that Mr. Sherlock Holmes has gone out," I said to
Mrs. Hudson as she came up to lower the blinds.
"No, sir. He has gone to his room, sir. Do you know, sir,"
sinking her voice into an impressive whisper, "I am afraid for
his health."
"Why so, Mrs. Hudson?"
"Well, he's that strange, sir. After you was gone he walked
and he walked, up and down, and up and down, until I was
weary of the sound of his footstep. Then I heard him talking to
himself and muttering, and every time the bell rang out he came
on the stairhead, with 'What is that, Mrs. Hudson?' And now he
has slammed off to his room, but I can hear him walking away
the same as ever. I hope he's not going to be ill, sir. I ventured
to say something to him about cooling medicine, but he turned
on me, sir, with such a look that I don't know how ever I got out
of the room.
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