It was the first Sunday of June 1894 when Mr Hugh Lockyer of Lockyer & Tarrant, merchants of Bishopsgate, sent a brougham for us at half past nine.
The matter, as he set it out before us in his neat, panelled office, was as singular as any we had handled. His elder brother, Edmund, had been drowned ten years before in the wreck of the Cape steamer *Phoebe* — the loss attested by the captain of the rescue vessel and recorded in the company's books. The firm had passed to Hugh as sole surviving partner. Last Tuesday, by the South African mail, a letter had arrived in Edmund's hand, postmarked Cape Town, claiming that he had survived the wreck, lived these years quietly in the Karoo, and now demanded the restoration of his share.
We walked across to the firm's offices through a quiet Sunday morning. On the opposite pavement of Bishopsgate stood a thin man in a worn grey ulster, a folded copy of the *Pall Mall Gazette* in his right pocket, who paused to a deep dry cough as we crossed and tipped his hat in the smallest acknowledgment to my friend. Holmes did not speak of him; he had the letter in his note-case and a magnifying glass in his pocket, and I knew that look upon his face.