"You're surprised to see me, sir," said he, in a strange, croaking voice.
I acknowledged that I was.
"Well, I've a conscience, sir, and when I chanced to see you go into this house, as I came hobbling after you, I thought to myself, I'll just step in and see that kind gentleman, and tell him that if I was a bit gruff in my manner there was not any harm meant, and that I am much obliged to him for picking up my books.""You make too much of a trifle," said I."May I ask how you knew who I was?""Well, sir, if it isn't too great a liberty, I am a neighbour of yours, for you'll find my little bookshop at the corner of Church Street, and very happy to see you, I am sure.Maybe you collect yourself, sir; here's `British Birds,' and `Catullus,'
and `The Holy War' -- a bargain every one of them.With five volumes you could just fill that gap on that second shelf.
It looks untidy, does it not, sir?"
I moved my head to look at the cabinet behind me.When I turned again Sherlock Holmes was standing smiling at me across my study table.I rose to my feet, stared at him for some seconds in utter amazement, and then it appears that I must have fainted for the first and the last time in my life.Certainly a grey mist swirled before my eyes, and when it cleared I found my collar-ends undone and the tingling after-taste of brandy upon my lips.Holmes was bending over my chair, his flask in his hand.
"My dear Watson," said the well-remembered voice, "I owe you a thousand apologies.I had no idea that you would be so affected."I gripped him by the arm.