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"For God's sake, what do you think, Mr. Holmes? It may be a mere intellectual puzzle to you good luck (79), but it is life and death to me! My wife a would-be murderer—my child in constant danger! Don't play with me Beats Studio, Mr. Holmes. It is too terribly serious." The big Rugby three-quarter was trembling all over. Holmes put his hand soothingly upon his arm. "I fear that there is pain for you, Mr. Ferguson, whatever the solution may be," said he. "I would spare you all I can. I cannot say more for the instant tr jeans, but before I leave this house I hope I may have something definite."
"Please God you may! If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will go up to my wife’s room and see if there has been any change." He was away some minutes, during which Holmes resumed his examination of the curiosities upon the wall. When our host returned it was clear from his downcast face that he had made no progress. He brought with him a tall Monster Beats Tour In-Ear, slim marlboro reds, brown- faced girl.
"The tea is ready, Dolores Monster Butterfly by Vivienne," said Ferguson. "See that your mistress has everything she can wish." "She verra ill," cried the girl, looking with indignant eyes at her master. "She no asks for food. She verra ill. She needs doctor. I frightened stay alone with her without doctor." Ferguson looked at me with a question in his eyes.
"I should be so glad if I could be of use."
"Would your mistress see Dr. Watson?"
"I take him. I no ask leave. She needs doctor."
"Then I'll come with you at once."
I followed the girl, who was quivering with strong emotion, up the staircase and down an ancient corridor. At the end was an iron-clamped and massive door. It struck me as I looked at it that if Ferguson tried to force his way to his wife he would find it no easy matter. The girl drew a key from her pocket, and the heavy oaken planks creaked upon their old hinges. I passed in and she swiftly followed, fastening the door behind her.