your name does not frighten me, Mr. Holmes,” said he, coolly. “When a man’s conscience is easy you can’t rattle him. What is your business in my house?”
“I want to know what you have done with the Lady Frances Carfax, whom you brought away with you from Baden.”
“I'd be very glad if you could tell me where that lady may be,” Peters answered, coolly. “I’ve a bill against her for nearly a hundred pounds, and nothing to show for it but a couple of trumpery pendants that the dealer would hardly look at. She attached herself to Mrs. Peters and me at Baden (it is a fact that I was using another name at the time), and she stuck on to us until we came to London. I paid her bill and her ticket. Once in London, she gave us the slip, and, as I say, left these out-of-date jewels to pay her bills. You find her, Mr. Holmes, and I’m your debtor.”
“I mean to find her,” said Sherlock Holmes. “I’m going through this house till I do find her.”
“Where is your warrant?”
Holmes half drew a revolver from his pocket. “This will have to serve till a better one comes.”
“Why, you are a common burglar.”
“So you might describe me,” said Holmes, cheerfully. “My companion is also a dangerous ruffian. And together we are going through your house.”
