of skin missing from the palm of his hand. The other man——'
'Ah! the other man?' asked Athelney Jones in a sneering voice, but impressed none the less, as I could easily see, by the precision of the other's manner.
'Is a rather curious person,' said Sherlock Holmes, turning upon his heel. 'I hope before very long to be able to introduce you to the pair of them. A word with you, Watson.'
He led me out to the head of the stair.
'This unexpected occurrence,' he said, 'has caused us rather to lose sight of the original purpose of our journey.'
'I have just been thinking so,' I answered; 'it is not right that Miss Morstan should remain in this stricken house.'
'No. You must escort her home. She lives with Mrs. Cecil Forrester, in Lower Camberwell, so it is not very far. I will wait
