? ? ? ? The table was all laid, and just as I was about to ring Mrs. Hudson entered with the tea and coffee. A few minutes later she brought in three covers, and we all drew up to the table, Holmes ravenous, I curious, and Phelps in the gloomiest state of depression.
? ? ? ? "Mrs. Hudson has risen to the occasion," said Holmes, uncovering a dish of curried chicken. "Her cuisine is a little limited, but she has as good an idea of breakfast as a Scotchwoman. What have you there, Watson?"
? ? ? ? "Ham and eggs," I answered.
? ? ? ? "Good! What are you going to take, Mr. Phelps -- curried fowl or eggs, or will you help yourself?"
? ? ? ? "Thank you. I can eat nothing," said Phelps.
? ? ? ? "Oh, come! Try the dish before you."
? ? ? ? "Thank you, I would really rather not."
? ? ? ? "Well, then," said Holmes with a mischievous twinkle, "I suppose that you have no objection to helping me?"
? ? ? ? Phelps raised the cover, and as he did so he uttered a scream and sat there staring with a face as white as the plate upon which he looked. Across the centre of it was lying a little cylinder of blue-gray paper.
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