keeping with a solemn butler who appeared framed in the pink
radiance of a tinted electrical light behind him.

"Yes, Mr. Culverton Smith is in. Dr. Watson! Very good, sir, I
will take up your card."

My humble name and title did not appear to impress Mr. Culverton
Smith. Through the half-open door I heard a high, petulant,
penetrating voice.

"Who is this person? What does he want? Dear me, Staples, how
often have I said that I am not to be disturbed in my hours of
study?"

There came a gentle flow of soothing explanation from the butler.

"Well, I won't see him, Staples. I can't have my work
interrupted like this. I am not at home. Say so. Tell him to
come in the morning if he really must see me."

Again the gentle murmur.

"Well, well, give him that message. He can come in the morning,
or he can stay away. My work must not be hindered."

I thought of Holmes tossing upon his bed of sickness and counting
the minutes, perhaps, until I could bring help to him. It was
not a time to stand upon ceremony. His life depended upon my
promptness. Before the apologetic butler had delivered his
message I had pushed past him and was in the room.