Thomas Godfrey (Ed) by Murder for Christmas Read Free Book Online

I ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.”
    I had been delayed at a case, and it
was a little after half-past six when I found myself in Baker Street once more.
As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which
was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was
thrown from the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were
shown up together to Holmes’s room.
    “Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said
he, rising from his armchair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of
geniality which he could so readily assume. “Pray take this chair by the fire,
Mr. Baker. It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more
adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right
time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?”
    “Yes. sir, that is undoubtedly my
hat.”
    He was a large man with rounded
shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a
pointed beard of grizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a
slight tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes’s surmise as to his habits.
His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar
turned up, and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign of
cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with
care, and gave the impression generally of a man of learning and letters who
had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune.
    “We have retained these things for
some days,” said Holmes, “because we expected to see an advertisement from you
giving your address. I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise.”
    Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced
laugh. “Shillings have not been plentiful with me as they once were,” he
remarked. “I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried
off both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless
attempt at recovering them.”
    “Very naturally. By the way. about
the bird, we were compelled to eat it.”
    “To eat it!” Our visitor half rose
from his chair in his excitement.
    “Yes, it would have been of no use
to anyone had we not done so. But I presume that this other goose upon the
sideboard, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your
purpose equally well?”
    “Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered
Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief.
    “Of course, we still have the
feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish—”
    The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They
might be useful to me as relics of my adventure.” said he, “but beyond that I
can hardly see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are
going to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will confine
my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard.”
    Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply
across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
    “There is your hat, then, and there
your bird.” said he. “By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got
the other one from? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a
better grown goose.”
    “Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who
had risen and tucked his newly gained property under his arm. “There are a few
of us who frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum—we are to be found in the
Museum itself during the day. you understand. This year our good host.
Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration for some
few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence
were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you,
sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity.” With a
comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and strode off upon
his way.
    “So much for Mr. Henry Baker,” said
Holmes when he had closed the door behind him. “It is quite certain that he
knows