"Go to Baker Street at
once," it said. "If I have not returned, wait for me. I am
close on the track of the Sholto gang. You can come with us to-
night if you want to be in at the finish."
"This sounds well. He has evidently picked up the scent again,"
said I.
"Ah, then he has been at fault too," exclaimed Jones, with
evident satisfaction. "Even the best of us are thrown off
sometimes. Of course this may prove to be a false alarm; but it
is my duty as an officer of the law to allow no chance to slip.
But there is some one at the door. Perhaps this is he."
A heavy step was heard ascending the stair, with a great wheezing
and rattling as from a man who was sorely put to it for breath.
Once or twice he stopped, as though the climb were too much for
him, but at last he made his way to our door and entered. His
appearance corresponded to the sounds which we had heard. He was
an aged man, clad in seafaring garb, with an old pea-jacket
buttoned up to his throat. His back was bowed, his knees were
shaky, and his breathing was painfully asthmatic. As he leaned
upon a thick oaken cudgel his shoulders heaved in the effort to
draw the air into his lungs. He had a colored scarf round his
chin, and I could see little of his face save a pair of keen dark
eyes, overhung by bushy white brows, and long gray side-whiskers.
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