"
Holmes's voice had sunk to an almost inaudible whisper.
"What is that?" said Smith. "Turn up the gas? Ah, the shadows
begin to fall, do they? Yes, I will turn it up, that I may see
you the better." He crossed the room and the light suddenly
brightened. "Is there any other little service that I can do
you, my friend?"
"A match and a cigarette."
I nearly called out in my joy and my amazement. He was speaking
in his natural voice--a little weak, perhaps, but the very voice
I knew. There was a long pause, and I felt that Culverton Smith
was standing in silent amazement looking down at his companion.
"What's the meaning of this?" I heard him say at last in a dry,
rasping tone.
"The best way of successfully acting a part is to be it," said
Holmes. "I give you my word that for three days I have tasted
neither food nor drink until you were good enough to pour me out
that glass of water. But it is the tobacco which I find most
irksome. Ah, here ARE some cigarettes." I heard the striking of
a match. "That is very much better. Halloa! halloa! Do I hear
the step of a friend?"
There were footfalls outside, the door opened, and Inspector
Morton appeared.
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