Chapter I
The
Science of DeductionSherlock
Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantel-piece and his
hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long, white,
nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle, and rolled back his
left shirt-cuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully
upon the sinewy forearm and wrist all dotted and scarred with
innumerable puncture-marks. Finally he thrust the sharp point home,
pressed down the tiny piston, and sank back into the velvet-lined
arm-chair with a long sigh of satisfaction.Three
times a day for many months I had witnessed this performance, but
custom had not reconciled my mind to it. On the contrary, from day to
day I had become more irritable at the sight, and my conscience
swelled nightly within me at the thought that I had lacked the
courage to protest. Again and again I had registered a vow that I
should deliver my soul upon the subject, but there was that in the
cool, nonchalant air of my companion which made him the last man with
whom one would care to take anything approaching to a liberty. His
great powers, his masterly manner, and the experience which I had had
of his many extraordinary qualities, all made me diffident and
backward in crossing him.Yet
upon that afternoon, whether it was the Beaune which I had taken with
my lunch, or the additional exasperation produced by the extreme
deliberation of his manner, I suddenly felt that I could hold out no
longer."Which
is it to-day?" I asked,—"morphine or cocaine?"He
raised his eyes languidly from the old black-letter volume which he
had opened. "It is cocaine," he said,—"a
seven-per-cent. solution. Would you care to try it?""No,
indeed," I answered, brusquely. "My constitution has not
got over the Afghan campaign yet. I cannot afford to throw any extra
strain upon it."He
smiled at my vehemence. "Perhaps you are right, Watson," he
said. "I suppose that its influence is physically a bad one. I
find it, however, so transcendently stimulating and clarifying to the
mind that its secondary action is a matter of small moment.""But
consider!" I said, earnestly. "Count the cost! Your brain
may, as you say, be roused and excited, but it is a pathological and
morbid process, which involves increased tissue-change and may at
last leave a permanent weakness. You know, too, what a black reaction
comes upon you. Surely the game is hardly worth the candle. Why
should you, for a mere passing pleasure, risk the loss of those great
powers with which you have been endowed? Remember that I speak not
only as one comrade to another, but as a medical man to one for whose
constitution he is to some extent answerable."He
did not seem offended. On the contrary, he put his finger-tips
together and leaned his elbows on the arms of his chair, like one who
has a relish for conversation."My
mind," he said, "rebels at stagnation. Give me problems,
give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most
intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can
dispense then with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull
routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I
have chosen my own particular profession,—or rather created it, for
I am the only one in the world.""The
only unofficial detective?" I said, raising my eyebrows."The
only unofficial consulting detective," he answered. "I am
the last and highest court of appeal in detection. When Gregson or
Lestrade or Athelney Jones are out of their depths—which, by the
way, is their normal state—the matter is laid before me. I examine
the data, as an expert, and pronounce a specialist's opinion. I claim
no credit in such cases. My name figures in no newspaper. The work
itself, the pleasure of finding a field for my peculiar powers, is my
highest reward. But you have yourself had some experience of my
methods of work in the Jefferson Hope case.""Yes,
indeed," said I, cordially. "I was never so struck by
anything in my life. I even embodied it in a small brochure with the
somewhat fantastic title of 'A Study in Scarlet.'"He
shook his head sadly. "I glanced over it," said he.
"Honestly, I cannot congratulate you upon it. Detection is, or
ought to be, an exact science, and should be treated in the same cold
and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it with
romanticism, which produces much the same effect as if you worked a
love-story or an elopement into the fifth proposition of Euclid.""But
the romance was there," I remonstrated. "I could not tamper
with the facts.""Some
facts should be suppressed, or at least a just sense of proportion
should be observed in treating them. The only point in the case which
deserved mention was the curious analytical reasoning from effects to
causes by which I succeeded in unraveling it."I
was annoyed at this criticism of a work which had been specially
designed to please him. I confess, too, that I was irritated by the
egotism which seemed to demand that every line of my pamphlet should
be devoted to his own special doings. More than once during the years
that I had lived with him in Baker Street I had observed that a small
vanity underlay my companion's quiet and didactic manner. I made no
remark, however, but sat nursing my wounded leg. I had a Jezail
bullet through it some time before, and, though it did not prevent me
from walking, it ached wearily at every change of the weather."My
practice has extended recently to the Continent," said Holmes,
after a while, filling up his old brier-root pipe. "I was
consulted last week by Francois Le Villard, who, as you probably
know, has come rather to the front lately in the French detective
service. He has all the Celtic power of quick intuition, but he is
deficient in the wide range of exact knowledge which is essential to
the higher developments of his art. The case was concerned with a
will, and possessed some features of interest. I was able to refer
him to two parallel cases, the one at Riga in 1857, and the other at
St. Louis in 1871, which have suggested to him the true solution.
Here is the letter which I had this morning acknowledging my
assistance." He tossed over, as he spoke, a crumpled sheet of
foreign notepaper. I glanced my eyes down it, catching a profusion of
notes of admiration, with stray "magnifiques,"
"coup-de-maitres," and "tours-de-force," all
testifying to the ardent admiration of the Frenchman."He
speaks as a pupil to his master," said I."Oh,
he rates my assistance too highly," said Sherlock Holmes,
lightly. "He has considerable gifts himself. He possesses two
out of the three qualities necessary for the ideal detective. He has
the power of observation and that of deduction. He is only wanting in
knowledge; and that may come in time. He is now translating my small
works into French.""Your
works?""Oh,
didn't you know?" he cried, laughing. "Yes, I have been
guilty of several monographs. They are all upon technical subjects.
Here, for example, is one 'Upon the Distinction between the Ashes of
the Various Tobaccoes.' In it I enumerate a hundred and forty forms
of cigar-, cigarette-, and pipe-tobacco, with colored plates
illustrating the difference in the ash. It is a point which is
continually turning up in criminal trials, and which is sometimes of
supreme importance as a clue. If you can say definitely, for example,
that some murder has been done by a man who was smoking an Indian
lunkah, it obviously narrows your field of search. To the trained eye
there is as much difference between the black ash of a Trichinopoly
and the white fluff of bird's-eye as there is between a cabbage and a
potato.""You
have an extraordinary genius for minutiae," I remarked."I
appreciate their importance. Here is my monograph upon the tracing of
footsteps, with some remarks upon the uses of plaster of Paris as a
preserver of impresses. Here, too, is a curious little work upon the
influence of a trade upon the form of the hand, with lithotypes of
the hands of slaters, sailors, corkcutters, compositors, weavers, and
diamond-polishers. That is a matter of great practical interest to
the scientific detective,—especially in cases of unclaimed bodies,
or in discovering the antecedents of criminals. But I weary you with
my hobby.""Not
at all," I answered, earnestly. "It is of the greatest
interest to me, especially since I have had the opportunity of
observing your practical application of it. But you spoke just now of
observation and deduction. Surely the one to some extent implies the
other.""Why,
hardly," he answered, leaning back luxuriously in his arm-chair,
and sending up thick blue wreaths from his pipe. "For example,
observation shows me that you have been to the Wigmore Street
Post-Office this morning, but deduction lets me know that when there
you dispatched a telegram.""Right!"
said I. "Right on both points! But I confess that I don't see
how you arrived at it. It was a sudden impulse upon my part, and I
have mentioned it to no one.""It
is simplicity itself," he remarked, chuckling at my
surprise,—"so absurdly simple that an explanation is
superfluous; and yet it may serve to define the limits of observation
and of deduction. Observation tells me that you have a little reddish
mould adhering to your instep. Just opposite the Seymour Street
Office they have taken up the pavement and thrown up some earth which
lies in such a way that it is difficult to avoid treading in it in
entering. The earth is of this peculiar reddish tint which is found,
as far as I know, nowhere else in the neighborhood. So much is
observation. The rest is deduction.""How,
then, did you deduce the telegram?""Why,
of course I knew that you had not written a letter, since I sat
opposite to you all morning. I see also in your open desk there that
you have a sheet of stamps and a thick bundle of post-cards. What
could you go into the post-office for, then, but to send a wire?
Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the
truth.""In
this case it certainly is so," I replied, after a little
thought. "The thing, however, is, as you say, of the simplest.
Would you think me impertinent if I were to put your theories to a
more severe test?""On
the contrary," he answered, "it would prevent me from
taking a second dose of cocaine. I should be delighted to look into
any problem which you might submit to me.""I
have heard you say that it is difficult for a man to have any object
in daily use without leaving the impress of his individuality upon it
in such a way that a trained observer might read it. Now, I have here
a watch which has recently come into my possession. Would you have
the kindness to let me have an opinion upon the character or habits
of the late owner?"I
handed him over the watch with some slight feeling of amusement in my
heart, for the test was, as I thought, an impossible one, and I
intended it as a lesson against the somewhat dogmatic tone which he
occasionally assumed. He balanced the watch in his hand, gazed hard
at the dial, opened the back, and examined the works, first with his
naked eyes and then with a powerful convex lens. I could hardly keep
from smiling at his crestfallen face when he finally snapped the case
to and handed it back."There
are hardly any data," he remarked. "The watch has been
recently cleaned, which robs me of my most suggestive facts.""You
are right," I answered. "It was cleaned before being sent
to me." In my heart I accused my companion of putting forward a
most lame and impotent excuse to cover his failure. What data could
he expect from an uncleaned watch?"Though
unsatisfactory, my research has not been entirely barren," he
observed, staring up at the ceiling with dreamy, lack-lustre eyes.
"Subject to your correction, I should judge that the watch
belonged to your elder brother, who inherited it from your father.""That
you gather, no doubt, from the H. W. upon the back?""Quite
so. The W. suggests your own name. The date of the watch is nearly
fifty years back, and the initials are as old as the watch: so it was
made for the last generation. Jewelry usually descends to the eldest
son, and he is most likely to have the same name as the father. Your
father has, if I remember right, been dead many years. It has,
therefore, been in the hands of your eldest brother.""Right,
so far," said I. "Anything else?""He
was a man of untidy habits,—very untidy and careless. He was left
with good prospects, but he threw away his chances, lived for some
time in poverty with occasional short intervals of prosperity, and
finally, taking to drink, he died. That is all I can gather."I
sprang from my chair and limped impatiently about the room with
considerable bitterness in my heart."This
is unworthy of you, Holmes," I said. "I could not have
believed that you would have descended to this. You have made
inquires into the history of my unhappy brother, and you now pretend
to deduce this knowledge in some fanciful way. You cannot expect me
to believe that you have read all this from his old watch! It is
unkind, and, to speak plainly, has a touch of charlatanism in it.""My
dear doctor," said he, kindly, "pray accept my apologies.
Viewing the matter as an abstract problem, I had forgotten how
personal and painful a thing it might be to you. I assure you,
however, that I never even knew that you had a brother until you
handed me the watch.""Then
how in the name of all that is wonderful did you get these facts?
They are absolutely correct in every particular.""Ah,
that is good luck. I could only say what was the balance of
probability. I did not at all expect to be so accurate.""But
it was not mere guess-work?""No,
no: I never guess. It is a shocking habit,—destructive to the
logical faculty. What seems strange to you is only so because you do
not follow my train of thought or observe the small facts upon which
large inferences may depend. For example, I began by stating that
your brother was careless. When you observe the lower part of that
watch-case you notice that it is not only dinted in two places, but
it is cut and marked all over from the habit of keeping other hard
objects, such as coins or keys, in the same pocket. Surely it is no
great feat to assume that a man who treats a fifty-guinea watch so
cavalierly must be a careless man. Neither is it a very far-fetched
inference that a man who inherits one article of such value is pretty
well provided for in other respects."I
nodded, to show that I followed his reasoning."It
is very customary for pawnbrokers in England, when they take a watch,
to scratch the number of the ticket with a pin-point upon the inside
of the case. It is more handy than a label, as there is no risk of
the number being lost or transposed. There are no less than four such
numbers visible to my lens on the inside of this case.
Inference,—that your brother was often at low water. Secondary
inference,—that he had occasional bursts of prosperity, or he could
not have redeemed the pledge. Finally, I ask you to look at the inner
plate, which contains the key-hole. Look at the thousands of
scratches all round the hole,—marks where the key has slipped. What
sober man's key could have scored those grooves? But you will never
see a drunkard's watch without them. He winds it at night, and he
leaves these traces of his unsteady hand. Where is the mystery in all
this?""It
is as clear as daylight," I answered. "I regret the
injustice which I did you. I should have had more faith in your
marvellous faculty. May I ask whether you have any professional
inquiry on foot at present?""None.
Hence the cocaine. I cannot live without brain-work. What else is
there to live for? Stand at the window here. Was ever such a dreary,
dismal, unprofitable world? See how the yellow fog swirls down the
street and drifts across the dun-colored houses. What could be more
hopelessly prosaic and material? What is the use of having powers,
doctor, when one has no field upon which to exert them? Crime is
commonplace, existence is commonplace, and no qualities save those
which are commonplace have any function upon earth."I
had opened my mouth to reply to this tirade, when with a crisp knock
our landlady entered, bearing a card upon the brass salver."A
young lady for you, sir," she said, addressing my companion."Miss
Mary Morstan," he read. "Hum! I have no recollection of the
name. Ask the young lady to step up, Mrs. Hudson. Don't go, doctor. I
should prefer that you remain."
Chapter II
The Statement of the
Case
Miss Morstan entered
the room with a firm step and an outward composure of manner. She
was a blonde young lady, small, dainty, well gloved, and dressed in
the most perfect taste. There was, however, a plainness and
simplicity about her costume which bore with it a suggestion of
limited means. The dress was a sombre grayish beige, untrimmed and
unbraided, and she wore a small turban of the same dull hue,
relieved only by a suspicion of white feather in the side. Her face
had neither regularity of feature nor beauty of complexion, but her
expression was sweet and amiable, and her large blue eyes were
singularly spiritual and sympathetic. In an experience of women
which extends over many nations and three separate continents, I
have never looked upon a face which gave a clearer promise of a
refined and sensitive nature. I could not but observe that as she
took the seat which Sherlock Holmes placed for her, her lip
trembled, her hand quivered, and she showed every sign of intense
inward agitation.
"I have come to you,
Mr. Holmes," she said, "because you once enabled my employer, Mrs.
Cecil Forrester, to unravel a little domestic complication. She was
much impressed by your kindness and skill."
"Mrs. Cecil
Forrester," he repeated thoughtfully. "I believe that I was of some
slight service to her. The case, however, as I remember it, was a
very simple one."
"She did not think so.
But at least you cannot say the same of mine. I can hardly imagine
anything more strange, more utterly inexplicable, than the
situation in which I find myself."
Holmes rubbed his
hands, and his eyes glistened. He leaned forward in his chair with
an expression of extraordinary concentration upon his clear-cut,
hawklike features. "State your case," said he, in brisk, business
tones.
I felt that my
position was an embarrassing one. "You will, I am sure, excuse me,"
I said, rising from my chair.
To my surprise, the
young lady held up her gloved hand to detain me. "If your friend,"
she said, "would be good enough to stop, he might be of inestimable
service to me."
I relapsed into my
chair.
"Briefly," she
continued, "the facts are these. My father was an officer in an
Indian regiment who sent me home when I was quite a child. My
mother was dead, and I had no relative in England. I was placed,
however, in a comfortable boarding establishment at Edinburgh, and
there I remained until I was seventeen years of age. In the year
1878 my father, who was senior captain of his regiment, obtained
twelve months' leave and came home. He telegraphed to me from
London that he had arrived all safe, and directed me to come down
at once, giving the Langham Hotel as his address. His message, as I
remember, was full of kindness and love. On reaching London I drove
to the Langham, and was informed that Captain Morstan was staying
there, but that he had gone out the night before and had not yet
returned. I waited all day without news of him. That night, on the
advice of the manager of the hotel, I communicated with the police,
and next morning we advertised in all the papers. Our inquiries led
to no result; and from that day to this no word has ever been heard
of my unfortunate father. He came home with his heart full of hope,
to find some peace, some comfort, and instead—" She put her hand to
her throat, and a choking sob cut short the
sentence.
"The date?" asked
Holmes, opening his note-book.
"He disappeared upon
the 3d of December, 1878,—nearly ten years ago."
"His
luggage?"
"Remained at the
hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest a clue,—some clothes,
some books, and a considerable number of curiosities from the
Andaman Islands. He had been one of the officers in charge of the
convict-guard there."
"Had he any friends in
town?"
"Only one that we know
of,—Major Sholto, of his own regiment, the 34th Bombay Infantry.
The major had retired some little time before, and lived at Upper
Norwood. We communicated with him, of course, but he did not even
know that his brother officer was in England."
"A singular case,"
remarked Holmes.
"I have not yet
described to you the most singular part. About six years ago—to be
exact, upon the 4th of May, 1882—an advertisement appeared in the
Times asking for the address of Miss Mary Morstan and stating that
it would be to her advantage to come forward. There was no name or
address appended. I had at that time just entered the family of
Mrs. Cecil Forrester in the capacity of governess. By her advice I
published my address in the advertisement column. The same day
there arrived through the post a small card-board box addressed to
me, which I found to contain a very large and lustrous pearl. No
word of writing was enclosed. Since then every year upon the same
date there has always appeared a similar box, containing a similar
pearl, without any clue as to the sender. They have been pronounced
by an expert to be of a rare variety and of considerable value. You
can see for yourselves that they are very handsome." She opened a
flat box as she spoke, and showed me six of the finest pearls that
I had ever seen.
"Your statement is
most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes. "Has anything else
occurred to you?"
"Yes, and no later
than to-day. That is why I have come to you. This morning I
received this letter, which you will perhaps read for
yourself."
"Thank you," said
Holmes. "The envelope too, please. Postmark, London, S.W. Date,
July 7. Hum! Man's thumb-mark on corner,—probably postman. Best
quality paper. Envelopes at sixpence a packet. Particular man in
his stationery. No address. 'Be at the third pillar from the left
outside the Lyceum Theatre to-night at seven o'clock. If you are
distrustful, bring two friends. You are a wronged woman, and shall
have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in vain.
Your unknown friend.' Well, really, this is a very pretty little
mystery. What do you intend to do, Miss Morstan?"
"That is exactly what
I want to ask you."
"Then we shall most
certainly go. You and I and—yes, why, Dr. Watson is the very man.
Your correspondent says two friends. He and I have worked together
before."
"But would he come?"
she asked, with something appealing in her voice and
expression.
"I should be proud and
happy," said I, fervently, "if I can be of any
service."
"You are both very
kind," she answered. "I have led a retired life, and have no
friends whom I could appeal to. If I am here at six it will do, I
suppose?"
"You must not be
later," said Holmes. "There is one other point, however. Is this
handwriting the same as that upon the pearl-box
addresses?"
"I have them here,"
she answered, producing half a dozen pieces of
paper.
"You are certainly a
model client. You have the correct intuition. Let us see, now." He
spread out the papers upon the table, and gave little darting
glances from one to the other. "They are disguised hands, except
the letter," he said, presently, "but there can be no question as
to the authorship. See how the irrepressible Greek e will break
out, and see the twirl of the final s. They are undoubtedly by the
same person. I should not like to suggest false hopes, Miss
Morstan, but is there any resemblance between this hand and that of
your father?"
"Nothing could be more
unlike."
"I expected to hear
you say so. We shall look out for you, then, at six. Pray allow me
to keep the papers. I may look into the matter before then. It is
only half-past three. Au revoir, then."
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