"It is I, McMurdo. You surely know my knock by this time."

There was a grumbling sound and a clanking and jarring of keys.
The door swung heavily back, and a short, deep-chested man stood
in the opening, with the yellow light of the lantern shining upon
his protruded face and twinkling distrustful eyes.

"That you, Mr. Thaddeus? But who are the others? I had no
orders about them from the master."

"No, McMurdo? You surprise me! I told my brother last night
that I should bring some friends."

"He ain't been out o' his room to-day, Mr. Thaddeus, and I have
no orders. You know very well that I must stick to regulations.
I can let you in, but your friends must just stop where they
are."

This was an unexpected obstacle. Thaddeus Sholto looked about
him in a perplexed and helpless manner. "This is too bad of you,
McMurdo!" he said. "If I guarantee them, that is enough for you.
There is the young lady, too. She cannot wait on the public road
at this hour."

"Very sorry, Mr. Thaddeus," said the porter, inexorably. "Folk
may be friends o' yours, and yet no friends o' the master's. He
pays me well to do my duty, and my duty I'll do. I don't know
none o' your friends."

"Oh, yes you do, McMurdo," cried Sherlock Holmes, genially. "I