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J STOW l\ SMHLET.
By A. CONAN DOYLE.
PART ONE.
\Hcinrf a reprint from the reminiscences
of John 11. Watson, M. I)., late of the
army medical department.]
CHAPTER I.
In the year 1878 I took my degree of
doctor of medicine of the University of
London and proceeded to Netley to go ■
through the course prescribed for sur- .
geons in the army. Slaving completed i
my studies tin re, I was duly attached
to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers
as assistant surgeon. The regiment was
stationed in India at the time, and be
fore I could join it the second Afghan
war had broken out. On landing at
Bombay, I learned that my corps had
advanced through the passes and was al
ready deep in the enemy’s country. I
followed, however, with many other
officers who were in the same situation
as myself, and succeeded in reaching
Kandahar in safety, where I found my
regiment and at once entered upon my
new duties.
The campaign brought honors and pro
motion to many, but for me it had noth
ing but misfortune and disaster. I was
removed from my brigade and attached
to the Berkshiree, with whom I served
at the fatal battle of Maiwand. There I
was struck on tho shoulder by a Jezail
bullet, which shattered the bone and
grazed tho subclavian artery. I should
have fallen into tho hands of the mur
derous Ghazis had it not been for the
devotion and courage shown by Murray,
my orderly, who threw mo across a pack
horse and succeeded in bringing mo safe
ly to the British lines.
Worn with pain and weak from the
prolonged hardships which I had under
gone, I was removed, with a great train
of wounded sufferers, to the base hos
pital at Peshawur. Here I rallied, and
had already improved so far as to bo
able to walk about the wards, and even
to bask a little on tho veranda, when I
was struck down by enteric fever, that
curse of our Indian possessions. For
months my life was despaired of, and
when at last I came to myself and be
came convalescent I was so weak and
emaciated that a medical board deter
mined that not a day should be lost in
fending me back to England. I was dis
patched accordingly in the troopship
Orontos and landed a month later on
Portsmouth jetty, with my health irre
trievably ruined, but with permission
from a paternal government to spend
the next nine months in attempting to
improve it.
I had neither kith nor kin in Eng
land, and was therefore as free as air—
or as free as an income of Ils. fid. a day
will permit a man to be. Under such
circumstances I naturally gravitated to
London, that great cesspool into which
all the loungers and idlers of the entire
empire are irresistibly drained. There I
staid for some time at a private hotel in
tho titrand, leading a comfortless, mean
ingless existence and spending such
money as I had considerably more free
ly than I ought. So alarming did the
state of my finances become that I soon
realized that I must either leave the
metropolis and rusticate somewhere in
the country, or that I must make a com
plete alteration in my style of living.
Choosing the latter alternative, I began
by making up my mind to leave the ho
tel and to take up my quarters in some
less pretentious and less expensive domi
cile.
On the very day that I had come to
this conclusion I was standing at the
Criterion bar when some one tapped
me on the shoulder, and turning round
1 recognized young Stamford, who had
been a dresser under mo at Bart’s. The
sight of a friendly face in the great wil
derness of London is a pleasant thing
indeed to a lonely man. In old days
Stamford had never been a particular
crony of mine, but now I hailed him
with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn,
appeared to be delighted to see me. In
the exuberance of my joy I asked him
to lunch with me at the Holborn, and
we started off together in a hansom.
“Whatever have you been doing with
yourself, Watson?” he asked, in undis
guised wonder, as we rattled through
the crowded London streets. “You are
as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut. ”
I gave him a short sketch of my ad
ventures and had hardly concluded it
by tho time that we reached our desti
nation.
"Poor devil!” he said commiserat
ingly after he had listened to my mis
fortunes. “What are you up to now?”
“Looking for lodgings,” I answered,
“trying to solve the problem as to
whether it is possible to get comfortable
rooms at a reasonable price. ’ ’
“That's a strange thing, ” remarked
my companion. "You are the second
man today that has used that expression
to me,”
“And who was the first?” I asked.
“A fellow who is working at the
chemical laboratory up at the hospital.
He was bemoaning himself this morn
ing because he could not get some one
to go halves with him in some nice
rooms which he had found and which
were too much for his purse. ”
“By Jove!” I cried, “if he really
wants some one to share the rooms and
the expense, I am the very man for
him. I should prefer having a partner
to being alone. ’ ’
Young Stamford looked rather
strangely at me over his wineglass.
“You don't know Sherlock Holmes
yet, ” he said. “Perhaps you would not
care for him as a constant companion. ”
“Why, what is there against him?”
“Oh, 1 didn't say there was anything
against him. He is a little queer in his
ideas—an enthusiast in some branches
of science. As far as I know, he is a de
cent fellow enough.”
“A medical student, I suppose?” I
said.
“Na I have no idea what he intends
to go in for. I believe he is well up in
anatomy, and he is a first class chemist,
but, as far as I know, he has never taken
out any systematic medical classes. His
studies are very desultory and eccentric,
but he has amxssed a lot of out of tho
way knowledge which would astonish
his professors.”
“Did you never ask him what he was
going in for?” I asked.
“No. He is not a man that it is easy
to draw out, though he can be commu
nicative enough when the fancy seizes
him. ”
“I should like to meet him,” I caid.
“If lam to lodge with any one, I should
prefer a man of studious and quiet hab
its. I am not strong enough yet to stand
much noise or excitement. I had enougli
of both in Afghanistan to last me for
the remainder of my natural existence.
How could I meet this friend of yours?”
“He is sure to beat the laboratory.
He either avoids the place for weeks, or
else he works there from morning to
night. If you like, we shall drive round
together after luncheon.”
“Certainly, ” I answered, and the con
versation drifted away into other chan
nels.
As we made our way to the hospital
after leaving the Holborn, Stamford
gave me a few more particulars about
the gentleman whom I proposed to take
as a fellow lodger.
“You mustn’t blame mo if you don’t
get on with him,” he said. “I know
nothing more of him than I have learned
from meeting him occasionally in the
laboratory. You proposed this arrange
ment, so yon must not hold me respon
sible. ’ ’
“If wo don’t get on, it will be easy
to part company,” I answered. “It
seems to me, Stamford,” I added, look
ing hard at my companion, “that you
have some reason for washing your hands
of the matter. Is this fellow’s temper
so formidable, or what is it? Don’t be
mealy mouthed about it. ”
“It is not easy to express tho inex
pressible,” ho answered, with a laugh.
“Holmes is a little too scientific for my
tastes. It approaches to cold blooded
ness. I could imagine his giving a friend
a little pinch of the latest vegetable al
kaloid, not out of malevolence, you un
derstand, but simply out of a spirit of
inquiry in order to have an accurate idea
of the effects. To do him justice, I think
that he would take it himself with the
same readiness. Ho appears to have a
passion for definite and exact knowl
edge. ”
“Very right too. ”
“Yes, but it may be pushed to excess.
When it comes to beating the subjects
in the dissecting rooms with a stick, it
is certainly taking rather a bizarro
shape. ”
“Beating the subjects!”
“Yes, to verify how far bruises may
bo produced after death. I saw him at
it with my own eyes. ”
“And yot you say ho is not a medical
student?”
“No. Heaven knows what tho objects
of his studies are! But here wo are, and
you must form your own impressions
about him.” As he spoke we turned
down a narrow lane and passed through
a small side door, which opened into a
wing of the great hospital. It was fa
miliar ground to me, and I needed no
guiding as we ascended tho bleak stone
staircase and made our w’ay dowji tho
long corridor with its vista of white
washed wall and dun colored doors.
Near the farther end a low archod pas
sage branched away from it and led to
the chemical laboratory.
This was a lofty chamber, lined and
littered with countless bottles. Broad,
low tables were scattered about, which
bristled with retorts, test tubes and lit
tle Bunsen lamps, with their blue flick
ering flames. There was only one stu
dent in tho room, who was bending
over a distant table absorbed in his
work. At the sound of our steps he
glanced round and sprang to his feet
with a cry of pleasure. “I’ve found.it!
I’ve found it!” ho shouted to my com
panion, running toward us with a test
tube in his hand. “I have found a re
agent which is precipitated by hemoglo
bin, and by nothing else. ” Had he dis
covered a gold mine greater delight
could not have shone upon his features.
“Dr. Watson—Mr. Sherlock Holmes, ”
said Stamford, introducing us.
“How are you?” he said cordially,
gripping my hand with a strength for
which I should hardly have given him
credit. “ Y’ou have been in Afghanistan,
| I perceive. ”
“How on earth did you know that?”
I asked in astonishment.
I “Never mind,” said he, chuckling to
• himself. “The question now is about
hemoglobin. No doubt you see tho sig
nificance of this discovery of mine?”
“It is interesting, chemically, no
J doubt, ” I answered, “but practically”—
i “Why, man, it is the most practical
I medico-legal discovery for years. Don’t
you see that it gives us an infallible test
j for blood stains? Come over here now!”
He seized me by the coat sleeve in his
■ eagerness and drew me over to the table
at which he had been working. “Let us
have some fresh blood,” he said, dig
‘ ging a long bodkin into his finger and
i drawing off the resulting drop of blood
in a chemical pipette. “Now, I add this
small quantity of blood to a liter of wa
ter. You perceive that the resulting
mixture has the appearance of true wa
ter. The proportion of blood cannot be
more than one in a million. I have no
doubt, however, that we shall be able to
obtain the characteristic reaction.” As
he spoke he threw into the vessel a few
white crystals, and then added some
drops of a transparent fluid. In an in
stant the contents assumed a dull ma
hogany color, and a brownish dust was
precipitated to the bottom of the glass
jar.
“Ha, ha!” he cried, clapping his
hands and looking as delighted as a child
with a new toy. “What do you think of
that?”
“It seems to be a very delicate test,”
I remarked
“Beautiful, beautiful! The old guaia
cum test was very clumsy and nneer
tain. So is the microscopic examination
for blood corpuscles. The latter is value
less if the stains are a few hours old.
Now, this appears to act as well whether
the blood is old or new. Had this test
been invented, there are hundreds of
men now walking the earth who would I
long ago have paid tho penalty of their
crimes. ”
“Indeed!” I murmured.
“Criminal cases are continually hing
ing upon that one point. A man is sus
pected of a crime months perhaps after
it has been committed. His linen or
clothes are examined and brownish
stains discovered upon them Are they
blood stains or mud stains or rust stains
or fruit stains, or what are they? That
is a question which has puzzled many
an expert and why? Because there was
no reliable test. Now we have the Sher
lock Holmes test, and there will no lon
ger be any difficulty. ”
His eyes fairly glittered as ho spoke,
and ho put his hand over his heart and
bowed as if to some applauding crowd
conjured up by his imagination.
“Y’ou are to bo congratulated,” I re
marked, considerably surprised at his
enthusiasm.
“There was the case of Von Bischoff
at Frankfort last year. Ho would cer
tainly have been hung had this test been
in existence. Then there was Mason of
Bradford, and the notorious Muller and
Lefevre of Montpellier, and Samson of
New Orleans. I could name a score of
cases in which it would have been deci
sive. ’ ’
“You seem to be a walking calendar
of crime, ” said Stamford, with a laugh.
“You might start a paper on those lines.
Call it The Police News of tho Past. ”
“Very interesting reading it might be
made, too, ” remarked Sherlock Holmes,
sticking a small piece of plaster over
the prick on his finger. “I have to be
careful,” he continued, turning to me,
with a smile, “for I dabble with poi
sons a good deal. ” He held out his hand
as he spoke, and I noticed that it was
all mottled over with similar pieces of
plaster and discolored with strong acids.
“We came hero on business,” said
Stamford, sitting down on a three legged
stool and pushing another one in my
direction with his foot. ‘ ‘My friend here
wants to take diggings, and as you were
complaining that you could get no ono
to go halves with you I thought that I
had better bring you together.”
Sherlock Holmes seemed delighted at
the idea of sharing his rooms with me.
“I have my eye on a suit in Baker
street,” ho said, “which would suit us I
down to the ground. You don’t mind
the smell of strong tobacco, I hope?”
“I always smoke ‘ship’s’ myself,” I
answered.
“That’s good enough. I generally
have chemicals about and occasionally
do experiments. Would that annoy
you?”
“By no means. ”
“Let me see—what are my other
shortcomings? I get in the dumps at
times and don’t open my mouth for days
on end. You must not think I am sulky
when Ido that. Just let mo alone, and
I’ll soon bo all right. What have you to
confess, now? It’s just as well for two
fellows to know the worst of one another
before they begin to live together. ”
I laughed at this cross examination.
“I keep a bull pup,” I said, “andobject
to rows, because my nerves are shaken,
and I get up at all sorts of ungodly hours,
and I am extremely lazy. I have another
set of vices when I’m well, but those
are the principal ones at present. ”
“Do you include violin playing in
your category of rows?” he asked anx
iously.
“It depends on the player, ” I answer
ed. “A well played violin is a treat for
the gods. A badly played one”—
“Oh, that’s all right,” he cried, with
a merry laugh. “I think we may con
sider the thing as settled—that is, if the
rooms are agreeable to you. ”
“When shall we see them?”
“Call for me here at noon tomorrow,
and we’ll go together and settle every
thing, ” he answered.
“All right—noon exactly,” said I,
shaking his hand.
We left him working among his
chemicals and walked together toward
my hotel.
“By the way, ” I asked suddenly, stop
ping and turning upon Stamford, “how
the deuce did he know that I had come
from Afghanistan?”
My companion smiled an enigmatical
smile. “That’s just his little peculiar
ity,” he said. “A good many people
have wanted to know how he finds things
out. ”
“Oh! A mystery, is it?” I cried, rub
bing my hands. “This is very piquant.
I am much obliged to you for bringing
us together. ‘The proper study of man
kind is man, ’ you know. ”
“You must study him, then,” Stam
ford said as he bade me goodby. “You’ll
find him a knotty problem, though I’ll
wager he learns more about you than
you about him. Goodby.”
“Goodby,” I answered, and strolled
on to my hotel, considerably interested
in my new acquaintance.
CHAPTER 11.
We met next day as he had arranged
and inspected the rooms at 221 b Baker
‘ street, of which be had spoken at our
meeting. They consisted of a couple of
comfortable bedrooms and a single large,
airy sitting room, cheerfully furnished ■
and illuminated by two broad windows, i
So desirable in every way were the I
apartments, and so moderate did the '
terms seem when divided between us I
that the bargain was concluded upon
the spot, and we at once entered into
possession. That very evening I moved
my things round from the hotel, and on
the following morning Sherlock Holmes j
followed me with several boxes and port
manteaus. For a day or two we were j
busily employed in unpacking and lay- ;
ing out our property to the best advan
tage. That done, we gradually began to i
settle down and to accommodate our- ,
• selves to our new surroundings.
Holmes was certainly not a difficult
man to live with. He was quiet in his '
ways, and his habits were regular. It
i was rare for him to be up after 10 at
' night, and he had invariably breakfast
ed and gone out K: el rose in the
i morning. Sometimes he spent his day
at the chemical laboratory, sometimes
in the dissecting rooms, and occasional
ly in long walks, which appeared to take
him into the lowest portions of tho city.
Nothing could exceed his energy when
the working fit was upon him, but now
and again a reaction would seize him,
and for days on end he would lie upon
the sofa in the sitting room, hardly ut
tering a word or moving a muscle from
morning to night. On these occasions I
have noticed -uch a creamy, vacant ex
pression in ki> eyes that I might have
i suspected him of being addicted to the
' use of some narcotic bad not tho tem
peranco and cleanliness of his whole life
forbidden such a notion.
As the weeks went by my interest in
him and my curiosity as to bis aims in
life gradually deepened and increased.
His very person and appearance were
such as to strike the attention of the
most casual observer. In height ho was
rather over 6 feet, and so excessively
lean that he seemed to be considerably
taller. His eyes were sharp and pierc
ing, save during those intervals of tor
por to which I have alluded, and his
thin, hawklike nose gave his whole ex
pression an air of alertness and decision.
His chin, too, had the prominence and
squareness which mark tho man of de
termination. His hands were invariably
blotted with ink and stained with chem
icals, yet he was possessed of extraordi
nary delicacy of touch, as I frequently
had occasion to observe when I watched
him manipulating his fragile philosoph
ical instruments.
i The reader may set mo down as a
I hopeless busybody when I confess how
much this man stimulated my curiosity
and how often I endeavored to break
through tho reticence which he showed
lon all that concerned himself. Before
i pronouncing judgment, however, be it
remembered how objectless was my life
, and how little there was to engage my
attention. I.ly health forbade mo from
i venturing out unless tho weather was
exceptionally genial, and I had no
friends who would call upon me and
break tho monotony of my daily exist
ence. Under these circumstances I eager
ly hailed the little mystery which hung
around my companion and spent much
of my time in endeavoring to unravel it.
Ho was not studying medicine. He
had himself, in reply to a question, con
firmed Stamford’s opinion upon that
point. Neither did he appear to have
pursued any course of reading which
might fit him for a degree in science or
I any other recognized portal which would
give him an entrance into the learned
world. Yet his zeal for certain studies
was remarkable, and within eccentric
limits his knowledge was so extraordi
narily ample and minute that his obser
vations have fairly astounded me. Sure
ly no man would work so hard to attain
such precise information unless ho had
some definite end in view. Desultory
readers are seldom remarkable for the
I exactness of their learning. No man
burdens his mind with small matters
unless he has some very good reason for
doing so.
His ignorance was as remarkable as
his knowledge. Os contemporary litera
ture, philosophy and polities he appear
ed to know next to nothing. Upon my
quoting Thomas Carlyle he inquired in
the naivest way who he might be and
what he had done. My surprise reached
a climax, however, when I found inci
dentally that ho was ignorant of the
Copernican theory and of the composi
tion of the solar system. That any civi
lized human being in this nineteenth
century should not be aware that the
earth traveled round the sun appeared to
be to me such an extraordinary fact that
I could hardly realize it.
“You appear to be astonished, ” he
said, smiling at my expression of sur
prise. “Now that I do know it I shall
do my best to forget it. ”
“To forget it!”
“You see, ” ho explained, “I consider
that a man’s brain originally is like a
little empty attic, and you have to stock
it with such furniture as you choose. A
fool takes in all the lumber of every sort
that he comes across, so that the knowl
edge which might be useful to him gets
crowded out, or at best is jumbled up
with a lot of other things, so that he
has a difficulty in laying his hands up
on it. Now’, the skillful workman is very
careful indeed as to what he takes into
his brain attic. He will have nothing
but the tools which may help him in
doing his work, but of these he has a
large assortment, and all in the most
perfect order. It is a mistake to think
that that little room has elastic walls
and can distend to any extent. Depend
upon it, there comes a time when for
every addition of knowledge you forget
something that you knew before. It is
of the highest importance, therefore, not
to have useless facts elbowing out the
useful ones. ”
“But the solar system!” I protested.
“What the deuce is it to me?” he in
terrupted impatiently. “You say that
we go round the sun. If we went round
the moon, it would not make a penny
worth of difference to me or to my
work. ”
I was on the point of asking him what
that work might be, but something in
his manner showed me that the question
would be an unwelcome one. I pondered
over our short conversation, however,
and endeavored to draw my deductions
from it. He said that he would acquire
no knowledge which did not bear upon
his object. Therefore all the knowledge
which he possessed was such as would
be useful to him. I enumerated in my
own mind all the various points upon
which he had shown me that he was ex
ceptionally well informed. I even took
; a pencil and jotted them down. T could
| not help smiling at the document when
; I had completed it. It ran in this way:
SHERLOCK HOLMES—HIS LIMITS.
1. Know ledge of Literature.—Nil.
2. Knowledge of Philosophy.—Nil.
3. Knowledge of Astronomy.—Nil.
4. Knowledge of Politics.—Feeble.
5. Knowledge of Botany. Variable.
Well up in belladonna, opium and poi
sons generally. Knows nothing- of prac
tical gardening.
6. Knowledge of Geology.—Practi
cal, but limited. Tells at a glance-dis-
1 ferent soils from each other. After walks
has shown me splashes upon his tron* I
sers, and told nie by their color and com
sistence in what part of London he had
received them.
7. Knowledge of Chemistry.—Pro
found.
8. Knowledge of Anatomy.—Accu
rate, but unsystematic.
9. Knowledge of Sensational Litera
ture. —Immense. He appears to know
every detail of every horror perpetrated
in the century.
10. Plays tho violin well.
11. Is an expert single stick player,
boxer and swordsman.
12. Has a good practical knowledge
of British law.
When I had got so far in my list, I
threw it into the fire in despair. “If I
can only find what the fellow is driving
at by reconciling all these accomplish
ments and discovering a calling which
needs them all,” I said to myself, “I
may as well give up tho attempt at
once.”
I see that I have alluded above to his
powers upon tho violin. These were very
remarkable, but as eccentric as all his
other accomplishments. That he could
play pieces, and difficult pieces, I knew
well, because at my request he has play
ed me some of Mendelssohn’s “Lieder”
and other favorites.
When left to himself, however, he
would seldom produce any music or at
tempt any recognized air. Leaning back
in his armchair of an evening, ho would
close his eyes and scrape carelessly at
the fiddle, which was thrown across his
knee. Sometimes the chords were sono
rous and melancholy. Occasionally they
were fantastic and cheerful. Clearly
they reflected the thoughts which pos
sessed him, but whether the music aided
those thoughts or whether the playing
was simply tho result of a whim or
fancy was more than I could determine.
I might have rebelled against these ex
asperating solos had it not been that he
usually terminated them by playing in
quick succession a whole series of my
favorite airs as a slight compensation
for the trial upon my patience.
During the first week or so we had no
callers, and I had begun to think that
my companion was as friendless a man
as I was myself. Presently, however, I
found that he had many acquaintam es
and those in the most different classes
of society. There was one little, sallow,
rat faced, dark eyed fellow who was in
troduced to me as Mr. Lostrade, and
who came three or four times in a sin
gle week. One morning a young girl
called, fashionably dressed, and staid
for half an hour or more. The same aft
ernoon brought a gray headed, seedy
visitor, looking like a Jew peddler, who
appeared to me to be much excited, and
who was closely followed by a slipshod
elderly woman. On another occasion an
old white haired gentleman had an in
terview with my companion, and on an
other a railway porter in his velveteen
uniform. When any of these nondescript
individuals put in an appearance, Sher
lock Holmes used to beg for the use of
tho sitting room, and I would retire to
my bedroom. He always apologized to
me for putting me to this inconvenience.
“I have to use this room as a place of
business,” he said, “and these people
are my clients. ” Again I had an oppor
tunity of asking him a point blank ques
tion, and again my delicacy prevented
me from forcing another man to confide
in me. I imagined at the time that he
had some strong reason for not alluding
to it, but he soon dispelled the idea by
coming round to the subject of his own
accord.
It was upon the 4th of March, as I
have good reason to remember, that I
rose somewhat earlier than usual and
found that Sherlock Holmes had not yet
finished his breakfast. The landlady hod
become so accustomed to my late habits
that my place had not been laid nor my
coffee prepared. With the unreasonable
petulance of mankind I rang the bell
and gave a curt intimation that I was
ready. Then I picked up a magazine
from the table and attemped to while
away the time with it, while my com
panion munched silently at his toast.
One of the articles had a pencil mark at
the heading, and I naturally began to
run my eye through it.
Its somewhat ambitious title was
“The Book of Life, ” and it attempted to
show how much an observant man might
learn by an accurate and systematic ex
amination of all that came in his way.
It struck me as being a remarkable mix
ture of shrewdness and of absurdity.
The reasoning was close and intense,
but the deductions appeared to me to
be farfetched and exaggerated. The
writer claimed by a momentary expres
sion, a twitch of a muscle or a glance
of an eye to fathom a man’s inmost,
thoughts. Deceit, according to him, was
an impossibility in the case of one train
ed to observation and analysis. His con
clusions were as infallible as so many
propositions of Euclid. So startling
would his results appear to the uniniti
ated that until they learned the processes
by which he had arrived at them they
might well consider him as a necro
mancer.
“From a drop of water, ” said the
writer, “a logician could infer the pos
sibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara with
out having seen or heard of one or the
other. So all life is a great chain, the
nature of which is known whenever we
are shown a single link of it. Like all
other arts, the science of deduction and
analysis is one which can only be ac
quired by long and patient study, nor is
: life long enough to allow any mortal to
attain the highest possible perfection in
it. Before turning to those moral and
menial aspects of the matter which pre
sent the greatest difficulties let the in
quirer begin by mastering more elemen
tary problems. Let him, on meeting a
fellow mortal, learn at a glance to dis
tinguish the history of the man and the
trade or profession to which he belongs.
■ Puerile as such an exercise may seem, it
sharpens the faculties cf observation and
teaches one where to look and what to
look for. By a man’s finger nails, by
his boot, by his trouser knees, by the
callosities of his forefinger and thumb,
by his expression, by his shirt cuffs—by
each of these things a man’s calling is
plainly revealed. That all united should
fail to enlighten the competent inquirer
in any case is almost inconceivable. ”
“What ineffable twaddle!” I cried,
slapping the magazine down on the
table. “I never read such rubbish ii. my
life.”
“What is it?” asked Sherlock Holmes.
“Why, this article,” I said, pointing
at it with my egg spoon as I sat down
to my’breakfast. “I see that you have
read it, since you have marked it. I
don’t deny that it is smartly written. It
irritates me, though. It is evidently the
theory of some armchair lounger who
evolves all these neat little paradoxes in
the seclusion of his own study. It is not
practical. I should like to see him clap
ped down in a third class carriage on
tho Underground and asked to give the
trades of all his fellow travelers. I
would lay a thousand to one against
him. ”
“You would lose your money, ” Sher
lock Holmes remarked calmly. “As for
the article, I wrote it myself.”
“You!”
“Yes, I have a turn both for observa
tion and for deduction. 'The theories
which I have expressed Ibero, and which
appear to you to bo so chimerical, are
really extremely practical, so practical
that I depend upon them for my bread
and cheese. ’ ’
“And how?” I asked involuntarily.
“Well, I have a trade of my own. I
suppose I am the onlyono in the world.
I am a consulting detective, if you can
understand what that is. Hero in Lon
don we have lots of government detect
ives and lots of private ones. When
these fellows are at fault, they come to
me, and I manage to put them on the
right scent. They lay all tho evidence
before me, and I am generally able, by
the help of my knowledge of the history
of crime, to set them straight. There is
a strong family resemblance about mis
deeds, and if you have all the details of
a thousand at your finger ends it is odd
if you can’t unravel the thousand and
first. Lostrade is a well known detect
ive. He got himself into a fog recently
over a forgery case, and that was what
brought him here.”
“And these other people?”
“They are mostly sent out by private
inquiry agencies. They are all people
who are in trouble about something and
want a little enlightening. I listen to
their story, they listen to my comments,
and then I pocket my fee. ”
“But do you mean to say, ” I said,
“that without leaving your room you
can unravel some knot which other men
can make nothing of, although they
have seen every detail for themselves?”
“Quite so. I have a kind of intuition
that way. Now and again a case turns
up which is a little more complex. Then
I have to bustle about and see things
with my own eyes. You see, I have a
lot of special knowledge which I apply
to the problem and which facilitates
matters wonderfully. Those rules of de
duction laid down in that article which
aroused your scorn are invaluable to mo
in practical work. Observation with mo
is second nature. You appeared ts bo
surprised when I told yojj; on our first
that -kad 'eome from Af
r ' --
‘ told, no Houbt. ”
“b.4Rmiug of the sort. I knew you
came from Afghanistan. Urom long
habit the train of thought ran so swift
ly through my mind that I arrived at
the conclusion without being conscious
of intermediate steps. There were such
steps, however. The train of reasoning
ran: ‘Here is a gentleman of a medical
type, but with tho air of a military man,
clearly an army doctor, then. He has
just come from the tropics, for his face
is dark, and that is not the natural tint
cf his skin, for his wrists are fair. He
has undergone hardship and sickness, as
his haggard face says clearly. His left
arm has been injured. He holds it in a
stiff and unnatural manner. Where in
the tropics could an English army doc
tor have seen much hardship and got his
arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan. ’
The whole train of thought did not oc
cupy a second. I then remarked that
you came from Afghanistan, and you
were astonished. ”
“It is simple enough as you explain
it,” I said, smiling. “You remind me
of Edgar Allan Poe’s Dupin. I had no
idea that such individuals did exist out
side of stories. ’ ’
Sherlock Holmes rose and lit his pipe.
“No doubt you think that you are com
plimenting me in comparing me to Du
pin, ”he observed. “New, in my opin
ion, Dupin was a very inferior fellow.
That trick of his of breaking in on his
■ friends’ thoughts with an apropos re
: mark after a quarter of an hour’s silence
i is really very showy and superficial. He
had some analytical genius, no doubt,
but he was by no means such a phenome
non as Poe appeared to imagine.”
“Have you read Gaboriau’s works?”
I asked. “Docs Lecoq come up to your
idea of a detective?”
Sherlock Holmes sniffed sardonically.
“Lecoq was a miserable bungler, ” he
said in an angry voice. “He had only
one thing to recommend him, and that
was his energy. That book made me
positively ill. The question was how to
identify an unknown prisoner. I could
have done it in 24 hours. Lecoq took six
■ mouths or so. It might be made a text
book for detectives to teach them what
to avoid. ”
I I felt rather indignant at having two
characters whom I had admired treated
in this cavalier style. I walked over to
the window and stood looking out into
the busy street. “This fellow n.ay be
very clever,” I said to myself, “but he
is certainly very conceited.”
“There are no crimes and no criminals
in these days,” he said querulously.
“What is the use of having brains in
our profession? I know well that I have
it in me to make my name famous. No
man lives or has i.vcr lived who has
brought the same amount of study and
of natural talent to the detection of
crime which I have done. And what is
the result? There is no crime to detect,
or at most some bungling villainy, with
a motive so transparent that even a
Scotland Yard official can see through
it.”