cab at nine-thirty in Trafalgar Square and offered Clayton two
guineas to do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions.
He had followed the two gentlemen in their cab from the Northumberland
Hotel to Baker Street and waited and hour and a half. He had then
followed them three-quarters down Regent Street, until the fare had
suddenly ordered him to drive hard to Waterloo Station. He paid his two
guineas and told Clayton he had been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Holmes was completely taken aback. The cabman could only say that the
fare was about forty years of age, of middle height, two or three inches
shorter than Holmes himself, dressed like a toff, with a black beard,
cut square at the end, and a pale face. Holmes thanked him, and gave
him his half sovereign. Clayton departed chuckling at his good fortune,
while Holmes admitted ruefully that his third thread had snapped
