On the adventure of the politician, the lighthouse, and the trained cormorant . . .

"A lighthouse," Holmes said, and knocked the ash from his pipe.

I blinked. "I beg your pardon, Holmes?"

"Number 23 down," he replied. "Home of beams, giving guidance. We have the first letter, L, from number seven across, politician."

"But it makes no sense!" I expostulated.

"Indeed." His lip curled. "Why indeed should this copy of the Times contain a crossword which failed to match all other editions for that day? Why should a trained cormorant bring it to the lady's window? And who would suppress . . ." He cut himself off with an impatient gesture. "Later, Watson. We have a guest!"

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