“Must you wear that?” I said, staring at the ridiculous hat on the equally ridiculous Great Dane striding beside me on the pavement. He had been striding so quickly on his long legs since we left Baker Street that I had to scamper to keep up.

“Yes,” he said mildly, “I must. When I’m on a case, it helps me think. Chewing on bones also helps me think; however, I noticed you had none available. We shall have to ask Mr. Javier to add some to our shopping list.”

“Our shopping … but you don’t live there!”

There was no point, though, in arguing with him further at the moment because …

“This is the place!” Bones announced, as though he’d just made some great discovery.

I glanced at the building in question. It was a large multi-story house that looked like it hadn’t been lived in, in quite some time. I could tell by the rundown look of everything and the overgrown little patch of grass out front. There were also a few broken windows on the top story. Human beings are nowhere near as tidy as cats, but even they won’t let a broken window sit unrepaired.

The front door was a few inches open.

Immediately, the dog began sniffing around the ground outside the door and muttering to himself.

“Two different sets of footprints … they must have come here in a cab … the cab left them off here … ”

By cab, of course he meant one of those vehicles pulled by horses. I never use them. In my experience, horses are not very good conversationalists.

“Right,” he announced.

“Right what?” I said.

“Shall we go inside?” Bones asked, his paw inches from the open door.

“Shouldn’t we wait?” I said.

“For what?”

“I don’t know.” Usually, an open door is such an inviting thing. But sometimes, an open door can appear menacing. This was definitely one of the latter. “Perhaps it’s dangerous?”

“I hardly think so.” Bones snorted. “Whomever was killed is already dead. How much can he hurt us now?”