Nearer three than two in the morning when I heard the rap on the door, it was, and if it weren't that I'd been listening for the doctor's return I'd have turned over again and let whoever it was knock till morning. Instead I pulled on my wrapper and went to see. I was just about to give the caller a piece of my mind when I realized it was Mr. Holmes, his arms full of the doctor and a terrible smell of blood on both of them.

"Hurt, but sleeping," whispered Mr. Holmes, softly, and carried his friend upstairs.