 I waited as best I could. Yet, as the slow, late summer day wore on, I felt a constantly rising excitement within me, and I saw that Holmes, too, was febrile and impatient. Until at last, in response to our telegram, the good Lestrade appeared. Ah, Lestrade, my dear Lestrade. You weren't busy, I hope. Busy, Mr. Holmes? I'm always busy. It's our motto at the yard. Of course.