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Updated: May 18, 2025
In the third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fog settled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday I doubt whether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to see the loom of the opposite houses. The first day Holmes had spent in cross-indexing his huge book of references.
Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the other was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea-stories until the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves.
He began speaking a little uncertainly: "Ah by the way, Peter I sent for you " "Yes, sir." Peter looked out at the window. The old gentleman scrutinized Peter a moment; then his faded eyes wandered about the library. "Still working at the books, cross-indexing them " "Yes, sir." Peter could divine by the crinkle of his nerves the very loci of the girl as she passed down the thoroughfare.
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