686 lines
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Plaintext
686 lines
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Plaintext
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-----=====Earth's Dreamlands=====-----
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(313)558-5024 {14.4} (313)558-5517
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A BBS for text file junkies
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RPGNet GM File Archive Site
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A Case of Identity
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"My dear fellow." said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either
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side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitely
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stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We
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would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere
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commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window
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hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the
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roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the
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strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the won-
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derful chains of events, working through generation, and leading
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to the most outre results, it would make all fiction with its
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conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprof-
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itable. "
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"And yet I am not convinced of it," I answered. "The cases
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which come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough,
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and vulgar enough. We have in our police reports realism pushed
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to its extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed,
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neither fascinating nor artistic."
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"A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing
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a realistic effect," remarked Holmes. "This is wanting in the
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police report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon the
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platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to an
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observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter. Depend
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upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace."
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I smiled and shook my head. "I can quite understand your
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thinking so." I said. "Of course, in your position of unofficial
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adviser and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled,
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throughout three continents, you are brought in contact with all
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that is strange and bizarre. But here" -- I picked up the morning
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paper from the ground -- "let us put it to a practical test. Here is
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the first heading upon which I come. 'A husband's cruelty to his
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wife.' There is half a column of print, but I know without
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reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is. of
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course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the
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bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of writers
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could invent nothing more crude."
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"Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argu-
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ment," said Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down
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it. "This is the Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was
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engaged in clearing up some small points in connection with it.
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The husband was a teetotaler, there was no other woman, and
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the conduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit
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of winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and
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hurling them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an action
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likely to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller.
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Take a pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have
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scored over you in your example."
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He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in
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the centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his
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homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting
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upon it.
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"Ah," said he, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some
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weeks. It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return
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for my assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers."
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"And the ring?" I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant
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which sparkled upon his finger.
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"It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the
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matter in which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot
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confide it even to you, who have been good enough to chronicle
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one or two of my little problems."
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"And have you any on hand just now?" I asked with interest.
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"Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of
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interest. They are important, you understand, without being
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interesting. Indeed, I have found that it is usually in unimportant
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matters that there is a field for the observation, and for the quick
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analysis of cause and effect which gives the charm to an investi-
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gation. The larger crimes are apt to be the simpler, for the
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bigger the crime thc more obvious, as a rule, is the motive. In
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these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which has been
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referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents
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any features of interest. It is possible, however, that I may have
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something better before very many minutes are over, for this is
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one of my clients, or I am much mistaken."
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He had risen from his chair and was standing between the
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parted blinds gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London
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street. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement
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opposite there stood a large woman with a heavy fur boa round
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her neck, and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat
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which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion
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over her ear. From under this great panoply she peeped up in a
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nervous, hesitating fashion at our windows, while her body
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oscillated backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with
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her glove buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer
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who leaves the bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard
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the sharp clang of the bell.
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"I have seen those symptoms before," said Holmes, throwing
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his cigarette into the fire. "Oscillation upon the pavement al-
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ways means an affaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is
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not sure that the matter is not too delicate for communication.
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And yet even here we may discriminate. When a woman has
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been seriously wronged by a man she no longer oscillates, and
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the usual symptom is a broken bell wire. Here we may take it
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that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not so much
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angry as perplexed, or grieved. But here she comes in person to
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resolve our doubts."
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As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons.
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entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady her-
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self loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed
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merchant-man behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes wel-
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comed her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable,
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and, having closed the door and bowed her into an armchair, he
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looked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which
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was peculiar to him.
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"Do you not find," he said, "that with your short sight it is a
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little trying to do so much typewriting?"
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"I did at first," she answered, "but now I know where the
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letters are without looking." Then, suddenly realizing the full
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purport of his words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with
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fear and astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face.
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"You've heard about me, Mr. Holmes," she cried, "else how
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could you know all that?"
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"Never mind," said Holmes, laughing; "it is my business to
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know things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others
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overlook. If not, why should you come to consult me?"
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"I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs.
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Etherege, whose husband you found so easy when the police and
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everyone had given him up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish
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you would do as much for me. I'm not rich, but still I have a
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hundred a year in my own right, besides the little that I make by
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the machine, and I would give it all to know what has become of
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Mr. Hosmer Angel."
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"Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?"
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asked Sherlock Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his
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eyes to the ceiling.
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Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of
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Miss Mary Sutherland. "Yes, I did bang out of the house," she
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said, "for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr.
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Windibank -- that is, my father -- took it all. He would not go to
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the police, and he would not go to you, and so at last, as he
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would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm
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done, it made me mad, and I just on with my things and came
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right away to you."
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"Your father," said Holmes, "your stepfather, surely, since
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the name is different."
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"Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds
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funny, too, for he is only five years and two months older than
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myself. "
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"And your mother is alive?"
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"Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn't best pleased, Mr.
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Holmes, when she married again so soon after father's death,
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and a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself.
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Father was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and he left a
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tidy business behind him, which mother carried on with Mr.
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Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibank came he made her
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sell the business, for he was very superior, being a traveller in
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wines. They got 4700 pounds for the goodwill and interest, which
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wasn't near as much as father could have got if he had been
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alive."
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I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this
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rambling and inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary he
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had listened with the greatest concentration of attention.
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"Your own little income," he asked, "does it come out of the
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business?"
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"Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle
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Ned in Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4 1/2 per
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cent. Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I
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can only touch the interest."
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"You interest me extremely," said Holmes. "And since you
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draw so large a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into
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the bargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in
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every way. I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely
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upon an income of about 60 pounds."
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"I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you
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understand that as long as I live at home I don't wish to be a
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burden to them, and so they have the use of the money just while
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I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for the time.
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Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it over
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to mother, and I find that I can do pretty well with what I earn at
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typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and I can often do
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from fifteen to twenty sheets in a-day."
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"You have made your position very clear to me," said Holmes.
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"This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as
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freely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about your
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connection with Mr. Hosmer Angel."
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A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face, and she picked
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nervously at the fringe of her jacket. "I met him first at the
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gasfitters' ball," she said. "They used to send father tickets
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when he was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us, and
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sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish us to go. He
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never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I
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wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I
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was set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to
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prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all
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father's friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothing
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fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so much
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as taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do,
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he went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we
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went, mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our
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foreman, and it was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel."
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"I suppose," said Holmes, "that when Mr. Windibank came
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back from France he was very annoyed at your having gone to
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the ball."
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"Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remem-
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ber, and shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use
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denying anything to a woman, for she would have her way."
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"I see. Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, a
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gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel."
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"Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask
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if we had got home all safe, and after that we met him -- that is to
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say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that father
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came back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the
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house any more."
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"No?"
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"Well, you know father didn't like anything of the sort. He
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wouldn't have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say
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that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But
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then, as I used to say to mother, a woman wants her own circle
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to begin with, and I had not got mine yet."
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"But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt
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to see you?"
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"Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and
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Hosmer wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to
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see each other until he had gone. We could write in the mean-
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time, and he used to write every day. I took the letters in in the
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morning, so there was no need for father to know."
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"Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?"
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"Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk
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that we took. Hosmer -- Mr. Angel -- was a cashier in an office in
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Leadenhall Street -- and --"
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"What office?"
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"That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don't know."
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"Where did he live, then?"
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"He slept on the premises."
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"And you don't know his address?''
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"No -- except that it was Leadenhall Street."
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"Where did you address your letters, then?"
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"To the Leadenhall Street Post-Office, to be left till called
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for. He said that if they were sent to the office he would be
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chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady,
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so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn't
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have that, for he said that when I wrote them they seemed to
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come from me, but when they were typewritten he always felt
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that the machine had come between us. That will just show you
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how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he
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would think of."
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"It was most suggestive," said Holmes. "It has long been an
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axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most impor-
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tant. Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer
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Angel?"
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"He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk
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with me in the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he
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hated to be conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was.
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Even his voice was gentle. He'd had the quinsy and swollen
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glands when he was young, he told me, and it had left him with
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a weak throat, and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech.
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He was always well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes
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were weak, just as mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against
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the glare."
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"Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfa-
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ther, returned to France?"
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"Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed
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that we should marry before father came back. He was in
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dreadful earnest and made me swear, with my hands on the
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Testament, that whatever happened I would always be true to
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him. Mother said he was quite right to make me swear, and that
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it was a sign of his passion. Mother was all in his favour from
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the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, when
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they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about
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father; but they both said never to mind about father, but just to
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tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right
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with him. I didn't quite like that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny
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that I should ask his leave, as he was only a few years older than
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me; but I didn't want to do anything on the sly, so l wrote to
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father at Bordeaux, where the company has its French offices,
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but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the
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wedding."
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"It missed him, then?"
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"Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived."
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"Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then,
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for the Friday. Was it to be in church?"
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"Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, near
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King's Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the
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St. Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there
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were two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a
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four-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in the
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street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler
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drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and
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when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was
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no one there! The cabman said that he couid not imagine what
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had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his own
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eyes. That was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen
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or heard anything since then to throw any light upon what
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became of him."
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"It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated,"
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said Holmes.
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"Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why,
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all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I
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was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen
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occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was
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pledged to him, and that he would claim his pledge sooner or
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later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what
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has happened since gives a meaning to it."
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"Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some
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unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?"
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"Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he
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would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw
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happened."
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"But you have no notion as to what it could have been?"
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"None."
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"One more question. How did your mother take the matter?"
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"She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the
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matter again."
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"And your father? Did you tell him?"
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"Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had
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happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said,
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what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of
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the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my
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money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on
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him, there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very indepen-
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dent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine.
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And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not
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write? Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep
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a wink at night." She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff
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and began to sob heavily into it.
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"I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising,
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"and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result.
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Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let
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your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr.
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Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has done from
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your life."
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"Then you don't think I'll see him again?"
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"l fear not."
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"Then what has happened to him?"
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"You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an
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accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can
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spare."
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"I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle," said she.
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"Here is the slip and here are four letters from him."
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"Thank you. And your address?"
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"No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell."
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"Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is
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your father's place of business?"
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"He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret im-
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porters of Fenchurch Street."
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"Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly.
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You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I
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have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do
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not allow it to affect your life."
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"You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall
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be true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes
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back."
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For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was
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something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which com-
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pelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers upon the
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table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever
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she might be summoned.
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Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his finger-
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tips still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him,
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and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down
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from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a
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counsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with
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the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look of
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infinite languor in his face.
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"Quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "I
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found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the
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way, is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you
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consult my index, in Andover in '77, and there was something of
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the sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however,
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there were one or two details which were new to me. But the
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maiden herself was most instructive."
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"You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite
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invisible to me," I remarked.
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"Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know
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where to look, and so you missed all that was important. I can
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never bring you to realize the importance of sleeves, the sugges-
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tiveness of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a
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boot-lace. Now, what did you gather from that woman's appear-
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ance? Describe it."
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"Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat,
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with a feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black
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beads sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments.
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Her dress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a
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little purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were
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grayish and were worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots
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I didn't observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings,
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and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfort-
|
||
able, easy-going way."
|
||
Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled.
|
||
" 'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully.
|
||
You have really done very well indeed. It is true that you have
|
||
missed everything of importance, but you have hit upon the
|
||
method, and you have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to
|
||
general impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon
|
||
details. My first glance is always at a woman's sleeve. In a man
|
||
it is perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As you
|
||
observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most
|
||
useful material for showing traces. The double line a little above
|
||
the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, was
|
||
beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves
|
||
a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side of it
|
||
farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the broad-
|
||
est part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and, observing
|
||
the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I ventured a
|
||
remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed to sur-
|
||
prise her."
|
||
"It surprised me."
|
||
"But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and
|
||
interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots
|
||
which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were
|
||
really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and
|
||
the other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lower
|
||
buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and fifth.
|
||
Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly dressed,
|
||
has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, it is
|
||
no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry."
|
||
"And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was,
|
||
by my friend's incisive reasoning.
|
||
"I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving
|
||
home but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right
|
||
glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see
|
||
that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. She had
|
||
written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. It must have
|
||
been this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the
|
||
finger. All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must
|
||
go back to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the
|
||
advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?"
|
||
I held the little printed slip to the light.
|
||
|
||
"Missing [it said] on the morning of the fourteenth. a
|
||
gentleman named Hosmer Angel. About five feet seven
|
||
inches in height; strongly built, sallow complexion, black
|
||
hair, a little bald in the centre, bushy, black side-whiskers
|
||
and moustache; tinted glasses, slight infirmity of speech.
|
||
Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat faced with
|
||
silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and gray Harris
|
||
tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots.
|
||
Known to have been employed in an office in Leadenhall
|
||
Street. Anybody bringing --"
|
||
|
||
"That will do," said Holmes. "As to the letters," he contin-
|
||
ued, glancing over them, "they are very commonplace. Abso-
|
||
lutely no clue in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac
|
||
once. There is one remarkable point, however, which will no
|
||
doubt strike you."
|
||
"They are typewritten," I remarked.
|
||
"Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the
|
||
neat little 'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you
|
||
see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is
|
||
rather vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive -- in
|
||
fact, we may call it conclusive."
|
||
"Of what?"
|
||
"My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it
|
||
bears upon the case?"
|
||
"I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able
|
||
to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were
|
||
instituted."
|
||
"No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two
|
||
letters, which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the
|
||
City, the other is to the young lady's stepfather, Mr. Windibank,
|
||
asking him whether he could meet us here at six o'clock to-
|
||
morrow evening. It is just as well that we should do business
|
||
with the male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing
|
||
until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our little
|
||
problem upon the shelf for the interim."
|
||
I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle
|
||
powers of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt
|
||
that he must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy
|
||
demeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he
|
||
had been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known him to
|
||
fail, in the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler
|
||
photograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of
|
||
'The Sign of Four', and the extraordinary circumstances con-
|
||
nected with 'A Study in Scarlet', I felt that it would be a strange
|
||
tangle indeed which he could not unravel.
|
||
I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the
|
||
conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would
|
||
find that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up
|
||
to the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary
|
||
Sutherland.
|
||
A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own
|
||
attention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at the
|
||
bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six o'clock
|
||
that I found myself free and was able to spring into a hansom
|
||
and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too late to
|
||
assist at the denouement of the little mystery. I found Sherlock
|
||
Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin form
|
||
curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable array of
|
||
bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydro-
|
||
chloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical
|
||
work which was so dear to him.
|
||
"Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered.
|
||
"Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta."
|
||
"No, no, the mystery!" I cried.
|
||
"Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon.
|
||
There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said
|
||
yesterday, some of the details are of interest. The only drawback
|
||
is that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel."
|
||
"Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss
|
||
Sutherland?"
|
||
The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had
|
||
not yet opened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall
|
||
in the passage and a tap at the door.
|
||
"This is the girl's stepfather, Mr. James Windibank," said
|
||
Holmes. "He has written to me to say that he would be here at
|
||
six. Come in!"
|
||
The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some
|
||
thirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a
|
||
bland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and
|
||
penetrating gray eyes. He shot a questioning glance at each of
|
||
us, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a slight
|
||
bow sidled down into the nearest chair.
|
||
"Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "I
|
||
think that this typewritten letter is from you, in which you made
|
||
an appointment with me for six o'clock?"
|
||
"Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite
|
||
my own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has
|
||
troubled you about this little matter, for I think it is far better not
|
||
to wash linen of the sort in public. It was quite against my
|
||
wishes that she came, but she is a very excitable, impulsive girl,
|
||
as you may have noticed, and she is not easily controlled when
|
||
she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, I did not mind
|
||
you so much, as you are not connected with the official police,
|
||
but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like this noised
|
||
abroad. Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could you
|
||
possibly find this Hosmer Angel?"
|
||
"On the contrary," said Holmes quietly; "I have every reason
|
||
to believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel."
|
||
Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. "I
|
||
am delighted to hear it," he said.
|
||
"It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes, "that a typewriter
|
||
has really quite as much individuality as a man's handwriting.
|
||
Unless they are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike.
|
||
Some letters get more worn than others, and some wear only on
|
||
one side. Now, you remark in this note of yours, Mr. Windibank,
|
||
that in every case there is some little slurring over of the 'e,' and
|
||
a slight defect in the tail of the 'r.' There are fourteen other
|
||
characteristics, but those are the more obvious."
|
||
"We do all our correspondence with this machine at the
|
||
office, and no doubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered.
|
||
glancing keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes.
|
||
"And now I will show you what is really a very interesting
|
||
study, Mr. Windibank," Holmes continued. "I think of writing
|
||
another little monograph some of these days on the typewriter
|
||
and its relation to crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted
|
||
some little attention. I have here four letters which purport to
|
||
come from the missing man. They are all typewritten. In each
|
||
case, not only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless, but you
|
||
will observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the
|
||
fourteen other characteristics to which I have alluded are there as
|
||
well."
|
||
Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat.
|
||
"I cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes,"
|
||
he said. "If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know
|
||
when you have done it."
|
||
"Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key
|
||
in the door. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!"
|
||
"What! where?" shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his
|
||
lips and glancing about him like a rat in a trap.
|
||
"Oh, it won't do -- really it won't," said Holmes suavely.
|
||
"There is no possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is
|
||
quite too transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when
|
||
you said that it was impossible for me to solve so simple a
|
||
question. That's right! Sit down and let us talk it over."
|
||
Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a
|
||
glitter of moisture on his brow. "It -- it's not actionable," he
|
||
stammered.
|
||
"I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves,
|
||
Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a
|
||
petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the
|
||
course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong."
|
||
The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon
|
||
his breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet
|
||
up on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his
|
||
hands in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it
|
||
seemed, than to us.
|
||
"The man married a woman very much older than himself for
|
||
her money," said he, "and he enjoyed the use of the money of
|
||
the daughter as long as she lived with them. It was a consider-
|
||
able sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would
|
||
have made a serious difference. It was worth an effort to pre-
|
||
serve it. The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but
|
||
alfectionate and warm-hearted in her ways. so that it was evident
|
||
that with her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she
|
||
would not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage
|
||
would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what
|
||
does her stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course
|
||
of keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company
|
||
of people of her own age. But soon he found that that would not
|
||
answer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and
|
||
finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain
|
||
ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives an
|
||
idea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With the
|
||
connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself,
|
||
covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face
|
||
with a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear
|
||
voice into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account
|
||
of the girl's short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and
|
||
keeps off other lovers by making love himself."
|
||
"It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor. "We never
|
||
thought that she would have been so carried away."
|
||
"Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was
|
||
very decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her
|
||
mind that her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treach-
|
||
ery never for an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by
|
||
the gentleman's attentions, and the effect was increased by the
|
||
loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel
|
||
began to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed
|
||
as far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. There
|
||
were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure
|
||
the girl's affections from turning towards anyone else. But the
|
||
deception could not be kept up forever. These pretended jour-
|
||
neys to France were rather cumbrous. The thing to do was
|
||
clearly to bring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner
|
||
that it would leave a permanent impression upon the young
|
||
lady's mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitor
|
||
for some time to come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted
|
||
upon a Testament, and hence also the allusions to a possibility of
|
||
something happening on the very morning of the wedding. James
|
||
Windibank wished Miss Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer
|
||
Angel, and so uncertain as to his fate, that for ten years to come,
|
||
at any rate, she would not listen to another man. As far as the
|
||
church door he brought her, and then, as he could go no farther,
|
||
he conveniently vanished away by the old trick of stepping in at
|
||
one door of a four-wheeler and out at the other. I think that was
|
||
the chain of events, Mr. Windibank!"
|
||
Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while
|
||
Holmes had been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a
|
||
cold sneer upon his pale face.
|
||
"It may be so, or it may not. Mr. Holmes," said he. "but if
|
||
you are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that
|
||
it is you who are breaking the law now, and not me. I have done
|
||
nothing actionable from the first, but as long as you keep that
|
||
door locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and
|
||
illegal constraint."
|
||
"The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes,
|
||
unlocking and throwing open the door, "yet there never was a
|
||
man who deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a
|
||
brother or a friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders.
|
||
By Jove!" he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter
|
||
sneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my
|
||
client, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just
|
||
treat myself to --" He took two swift steps to the whip, but
|
||
before he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the
|
||
stairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we
|
||
could see Mr. James Windibank running at the top of his speed
|
||
down the road.
|
||
"There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing,
|
||
as he threw himself down into his chair once more. "That fellow
|
||
will rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad,
|
||
and ends on a gallows. The case has, in some respects, been not
|
||
entirely devoid of interest."
|
||
"I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," I
|
||
remarked.
|
||
"Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr.
|
||
Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curious
|
||
conduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who really
|
||
profited by the incident, as far as we could see, was the step-
|
||
father. Then the fact that the two men were never together, but
|
||
that the one always appeared when the other was away, was
|
||
suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice,
|
||
which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My
|
||
suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in typewrit-
|
||
ing his signature, which, of course, inferred that his handwriting
|
||
was so familiar to her that she would recognize even the smallest
|
||
sample of it. You see all these isolated facts, together with many
|
||
minor ones, all pointed in the same direction."
|
||
"And how did you verify them?"
|
||
"Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corrobora-
|
||
tion. I knew the firm for which this man worked. Having taken
|
||
the printed description. I eliminated everything from it which
|
||
could be the result of a disguise -- the whiskers, the glasses, the
|
||
voice, and I sent it to the firm, with a request that they would
|
||
inform me whether it answered to the description of any of their
|
||
travellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of the type-
|
||
writer, and I wrote to the man himself at his business address
|
||
asking him if he would come here. As I expected, his reply was
|
||
typewritten and revealed the same trivial but characteristic de-
|
||
fects. The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse &
|
||
Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the description tallied
|
||
in every respect with that of their employee, James Windibank.
|
||
Voila tout!"
|
||
"And Miss Sutherland?"
|
||
"If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the
|
||
old Persian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger
|
||
cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a
|
||
woman.' There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as
|
||
much knowledge of the world."
|
||
|