The Inspector frowned and looked to me; I supplied him with a shrug and continued picking at my food. Through the café window I watched the sky turn from late evening's royal blue to the true pitch of night—as black as a bowtie and much too small around my neck.
"Come, Inspector, surely there's more." Holmes took a sip of water. "The fellow hoped to earn a feather for his cap. What else?"
"A great deal," Gregory murmured. "He's told us their motive—and who is to be the next victim."
Holmes pondered. "Hm, you've not done too badly."