followed at a little distance. After his
penny shave he made for the main road, where company-keeping couples
walked up and down all evening. He stopped at a church, and began pacing
slowly to and fro before it, eagerly looking out each way as he went.

His sister watched him for nearly half an hour, and then went home. In
two hours more she came back with her husband. Bob was still there,
walking to and fro.

''Ullo, Bob,' said his brother-in-law; 'come along 'ome an' get to bed,
there's a good chap. You'll be awright in the mornin'.'

'She ain't turned up,' Bob complained, 'or else I've missed 'er. This
is the reg'lar place--where I alwis used to meet 'er. But she'll come
tomorrer. She used to leave me in the lurch sometimes, bein' nach'rally
larky. But very good-'arted, mindjer; very good-'arted.'

She did not come the next evening, nor the next, nor the evening after,
nor the one after that. But Bob Jennings, howbeit depressed and anxious,
was always confident. 'Somethink's prevented 'er tonight,' he would say,
'but she'll come tomorrer.... I'll buy a blue tie tomorrer--she used to
like me in a blue tie. I won't miss 'er tomorrer. I'll come a little
earlier.'

So it went. The black coat grew ragged in the service, and hobbledehoys,
finding him safe sport, smashed the tall hat over his eyes time after
time. He wept over the hat, and straightened it as best he might. Was
she coming? Night after night, and night and night. But tomorrow....

THE ADVENTURE OF THE ABBEY GRANGE

By Arthur Conan Doyle

(_The Strand Magazine_, 23 January 1897)

It was on a bitterly cold night and frosty morning, towards the end of
the winter of '97, that I was awakened by a tugging at my shoulder. It
was Holmes. The candle in his hand shone upon his eager, stooping face,
and told me at a glance that something was amiss.

'Come, Watson, come!' he cried. The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your
clothes and come!'

Ten minutes later we were both in a cab, and rattling through the silent
streets on our way to Charing Cross Station. The first faint winter's
dawn was beginning to appear, and we could dimly see the occasional
figure of an early workman as he passed us, blurred and indistinct in
the opalescent London reek. Holmes nestled in silence into his heavy
coat, and I was glad to do the same, for the air was most bitter, and
neither of us had broken our fast.

It was not until we had consumed some hot tea at the station