It was late in the afternoon before I woke, strengthened and refreshed. Sherlock Holmes still sat exactly as I had left him save that he had laid aside his violin and was deep in a book. He looked across at me as I stirred, and I noticed that his face was dark and troubled. "You have slept soundly," he said. "I feared that our talk would wake you." "I heard nothing," I answered. "Have you had fresh news, then?" "Can I do anything? I am perfectly fresh now, and quite ready for another night's outing." "On Mrs Cecil Forrester?" asked Holmes with the twinkle of a smile in his eyes. "Most certainly."