"So," said the detective, "and is the mystery one that is absolutely
unparalleled in the whole recorded annals of the London police?"

"It is."

"And I suppose," said the detective, "that it involves names which you
would scarcely dare to breathe, at least without first using some kind
of atomiser or throat-gargle."

"Exactly."

"And it is connected, I presume, with the highest diplomatic
consequences, so that if we fail to solve it England will be at war with
the whole world in sixteen minutes?"

His secretary, still quivering with excitement, again answered yes.

"And finally," said the Great Detective, "I presume that it was
committed in broad daylight, in some such place as the entrance of the
Bank of England, or in the cloak-room of the House of Commons, and under
the very eyes of the police?"

"Those," said the secretary, "are the very conditions of the mystery."

"Good," said the Great Detective, "now wrap yourself in this disguise,
put on these brown whiskers and tell me what it is."

The secretary wrapped himself in a blue domino with lace insertions,
then, bending over, he whispered in the ear of the Great Detective: