He had spoken in jesting vein, but the twitching of his bushy eyebrows bespoke his disappointment and irritation. I sat helpless and unhappy, staring into the fire. A long silence was broken by a sudden exclamation from Holmes, who dashed at a cupboard, from which he emerged with a second yellow-covered volume in his hand.
“We pay the price, Watson, for being too up-to-date!” he cried. “We are before our time, and suffer the usual penalties. Being the seventh of January, we have very properly laid in the new almanac. It is more than likely that Porlock took his message from the old one. No doubt he would have told us so had his letter of explanation been written. Now let us see what page 534 has in store for us. Number thirteen is ‘There,’ which is much more promising. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is ‘is’—‘There is’ “—Holmes’s eyes were gleaming with excitement, and his thin, nervous fingers twitched as he counted the words—“‘danger.’ Ha! Ha! Capital! Put that down, Watson. ‘There is danger—may—come—very soon—one.’ Then we have the name ‘Douglas’—‘rich—country—now—at Birlstone—House—Birlstone—confidence—is—pressing.’ There, Watson! What do you think of pure reason and its fruit? If the green-grocer had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billy round for it.”
I was staring at the strange message which I had scrawled, as he deciphered it, upon a sheet of foolscap on my knee.