‘We have a clear run here of seventy minutes,’ Holmes remarked. ‘I want you, Mr Hall Pycroft, to tell my friend your very interesting experience exactly as you have told it to me, or with more detail if possible. It will be of use to me to hear the succession of events again. It is a case, Watson, which may prove to have something in it, or may prove to have nothing, but which at least presents those unusual and outré features which are as dear to you as they are to me. Now, Mr Pycroft, I shall not interrupt you again.’

Our young companion looked at me with a twinkle in his eye.

‘The worst of the story is,’ said he, ‘that I show myself up as such a confounded fool. Of course, it may work out all right, and I don’t see that I could have done otherwise; but if I have lost my crib and get nothing in exchange, I shall feel what a soft Johnny I have been. I’m not very good at telling a story, Dr Watson, but it is like this with me.

‘I used to have a billet at Coxon and Woodhouse, of Drapers’ Gardens, but they were let in early in the spring through the Venezuelan loan, as no doubt you remember, and came a nasty cropper. I had been with them five years, and old Coxon gave me a ripping good testimonial when the smash came; but, of course, we clerks were all turned adrift, the twenty-seven of us. I tried here and tried there, but there were lots of other chaps on the same lay as myself, and it was a perfect frost for a long time. I had been taking three pounds a week at Coxon’s, and I had saved about seventy of them, but I soon worked my way through that and out at the other end. I was fairly at the end of my tether at last, and could hardly find the stamps to answer the advertisements or the envelopes to stick them to. I had worn out my boots padding up office stairs, and I seemed just as far from getting a billet as ever.

‘At last I saw a vacancy at Mawson and Williams’, the great stockbroking firm in Lombard Street. I dare say EC is not much in your line, but I can tell you that this is about the richest house in London. The advertisement was to be answered by letter only. I sent in my testimonial and application, but without the least hope of getting it. Back came an answer by return saying that if I would appear next Monday I might take over my new duties at once, provided that my appearance was satisfactory. No one knows how these things are worked. Some people say the manager just plunges his hand into the heap and takes the first that comes. Anyhow, it was my innings that time, and I don’t ever wish to feel better pleased. The screw was a pound a week rise, and the duties just about the same as at Coxon’s.

‘And now I come to the queer part of the business. I was in diggings out Hampstead way—17, Potter’s Terrace, was the address. Well, I was sitting doing a smoke that very evening after I had been promised the appointment, when up came my landlady with a card which had “Arthur Pinner, financial agent,” printed upon it. I had never heard the name before, and could not imagine what he wanted with me, but of course I asked her to show him up. In he walked—a middle-sized, dark-haired, dark-eyed, black- bearded man, with a touch of the sheeny about his nose. He had a brisk kind of way with him and spoke sharply, like a man that knew the value of time.

‘ “Mr Hall Pycroft, I believe?” said he.

‘ “Yes, sir,” I answered, and pushed a chair towards him.

‘ “Lately engaged at Coxon and Woodhouse’s?”

‘ “Yes, sir.”

‘ “And now on the staff of Mawson’s?”

‘ “Quite so.”

‘ “Well,” said he. “The fact is that I have heard some really extraordinary stories about your financial ability. You remember Parker who used to be Coxon’s manager? He can never say enough about it.”