"Yes, some of us are a little too inclined to be cock-sure, Mr. Holmes," said Lestrade.
The man's insolence was maddening.
"Some of us including yourself, Inspector!" I shot back hotly at the Yarder's insufferable attitude.
The ferret-faced detective's eyebrows shot sky-high, as did my companion's.
"Well, you must admit, Doctor, that all along I have been right and Mr. Holmes has been very wrong. You don't like being beaten any more than the rest of us, I understand, but you have been this time, gentlemen – you're as wrong as wrong can get about young McFarlane, and I'll see him hang because I'm right!"
"How dare you!"
"Watson, stop it."
"Don't get upset, Doctor, we're all entitled to make mistakes, even arrogant private detectives," Lestrade went on, smirking toward my friend.
"He hasn't made a mistake, Lestrade – and even if so, Holmes's mistakes would be a dashed sight more intelligent than your inane babbling!"
Thoroughly in a temper, I took a step toward the shrinking official.
"Get out of here!"
Lestrade's mouth opened and shut foolishly and then he turned and ran with his tail between his legs.
"Watson. What the devil was that all about."
"Just tell me why you're sure McFarlane's innocent."
"I'm not sure!"
"What?"
"My dear Watson, someday you will have to stop this unwavering, trusting belief."