"Why?"

"Look at this advertisement," he answered. "I had one sent
to every paper this morning immediately after the affair."

He threw the paper across to me and I glanced at the place
indicated. It was the first announcement in the "Found" column.
"In Brixton Road, this morning," it ran, "a plain gold wedding
ring, found in the roadway between the `White Hart' Tavern
and Holland Grove. Apply Dr. Watson, 221B, Baker Street,
between eight and nine this evening."

"Excuse my using your name," he said. "If I used my own some
of these dunderheads would recognize it, and want to meddle
in the affair."

"That is all right," I answered. "But supposing anyone
applies, I have no ring."

"Oh yes, you have," said he, handing me one. "This will do
very well. It is almost a facsimile."

"And who do you expect will answer this advertisement."

"Why, the man in the brown coat -- our florid friend with the
square toes. If he does not come himself he will send an
accomplice."

"Would he not consider it as too dangerous?"