I cold see by the gleam in Holmes's eyes that he
thought we were nearing the end of our journey.
Our course now ran down Nine Elms until we came to Broderick and
Nelson's large timber-yard, just past the White Eagle tavern.
Here the dog, frantic with excitement, turned down through the
side-gate into the enclosure, where the sawyers were already at
work. On the dog raced through sawdust and shavings, down an
alley, round a passage, between two wood-piles, and finally, with
a triumphant yelp, sprang upon a large barrel which still stood
upon the hand-trolley on which it had been brought. With lolling
tongue and blinking eyes, Toby stood upon the cask, looking from
one to the other of us for some sign of appreciation. The staves
of the barrel and the wheels of the trolley were smeared with a
dark liquid, and the whole air was heavy with the smell of
creasote.
Sherlock Holmes and I looked blankly at each other, and then
burst simultaneously into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
Chapter VIII
The Baker Street Irregulars
"What now?" I asked. "Toby has lost his character for
infallibility."
"He acted according to his lights," said Holmes, lifting him down
from the barrel and walking him out of the timber-yard.
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