"Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room.
"The fire looks very seasonable in this weather.
You look cold, Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair.
I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours.
Now, then! You want to know what became of those geese?" "Yes, sir."
"Or rather, I fancy, of that goose.
It was one bird, I imagine, in which you were interested–white, with a black bar across the tail."
Ryder quivered with emotion. "Oh, sir," he cried, "can you tell me where it went to?"
"It came here." "Here?"
"Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don't wonder that you should take an interest in it.
It laid an egg after it was dead -- the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here in my museum."
Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand.
Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up the blue carbuncle,
which shone out like a star, with a cold, brilliant, many-pointed radiance.
Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it.