It was not long before I heard footsteps in the hall. The door opened and an old lady walked in. She was of medium height, and wore a black veil over her face. She handed me a folded piece of paper and said, 'Hurry! If you don't come quickly, it will be too late!' Then she left as quickly as she came.

I unfolded the paper. 'The silver teapot' was written on the note. 'What could this mean?' I thought. I put on my coat and ran outside and took a taxi to Waterloo Bridge. By the time I reached the bridge, it had started to snow. I could only see dark figures moving around under the bridge. Then I heard someone whisper, 'Did someone bring a message?' A beggar stepped from under the bridge. It was Holmes.

'Yes, here it is,' I answered. 'I hope you know what it means.' Holmes read the note and then put it in his pocket.

'Now I know the answer!' he said. 'The notepaper is expensive. It smells of roses - a scent very popular with young ladies. I presume, therefore, that the notepaper belongs to a rich, young lady.'

'But the messenger was not young!' I replied.

'I didn't say that the notepaper belonged to the messenger, did I?' asked Holmes.

'No, you didn't,' I replied thoughtfully.

'You must think and observe more carefully, Watson,' said Holmes. He took off his beggar's cloak. He was wearing his usual clothes underneath. 'We must hurry,' he said. Holmes quickly cleaned his face with a handkerchief and we set off to a nearby house. Holmes knocked on the door. A young man opened it.

'Mr. Holmes. The Prince of Hanover is expecting you,' said the man. He led us into the living room. In the room there was a tall man wearing a military uniform. A beautiful young lady was sitting by the fire reading a book. The man turned as we entered and said, 'So, at last I meet the great Sherlock Holmes. And you must be Dr Watson. Welcome.

I am sure you are wasting your time. There are no problems here.'

'On the contrary,' replied Holmes. 'You are unaware of what is happening to you. I'm sure your friend the countess will agree with me.' We all turned to look at the young woman sitting by the fire. She put down her book slowly, smiled and looked at us.

 

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