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THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE `
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I A Scandal in Bohemia `
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II The Red-headed League `
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III A Case of Identity `
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IV The Boscombe Valley Mystery `
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V The Five Orange Pips `
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VI The Man with the Twisted Lip `
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VII The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle `
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VIII The Adventure of the Speckled Band `
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IX The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb `
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X The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor `
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XI The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet `
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XII The Adventure of the Copper Beeches `
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ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA `
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I. `
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To Sherlock Holmes she is always THE woman. I have seldom heard `
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him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses `
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and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt `
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any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that `
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one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but `
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admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect `
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reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a `
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lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never `
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spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They `
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were admirable things for the observer--excellent for drawing the `
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veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner `
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to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely `
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adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which `
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might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a `
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sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power `
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lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a `
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nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and `
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that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable `
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memory. `
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I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us `
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away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the `
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home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first `
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finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to `
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absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of `
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society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in `
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Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from `
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week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the `
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drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, `
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as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his `
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immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in `
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following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which `
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had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time `
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to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons `
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to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up `
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of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, `
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and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so `
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delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. `
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Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely `
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shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of `
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my former friend and companion. `
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One night--it was on the twentieth of March, 1888--I was `
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returning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to `
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civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I `
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passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated `
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in my mind with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the `
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Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes `
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again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. `
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His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw `
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his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against `
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the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head `
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sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who `
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knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their `
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own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his `
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drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new `
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problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which `
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had formerly been in part my own. `
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His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I `
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think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly `
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eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, `
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and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he `
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stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular `
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introspective fashion. `
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"Wedlock suits you," he remarked. "I think, Watson, that you have `
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put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you." `
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"Seven!" I answered. `
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"Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, `
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I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not `
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tell me that you intended to go into harness." `
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"Then, how do you know?" `
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"I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting `
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yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and `
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careless servant girl?" `
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"My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much. You would certainly `
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have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true `
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that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful `
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mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you `
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deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has `
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given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it `
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out." `
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He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands `
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together. `
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"It is simplicity itself," said he; "my eyes tell me that on the `
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inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, `
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the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they `
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have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round `
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the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. `
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Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile `
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weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting `
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specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a `
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gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black `
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mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge `
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on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted `
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his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce `
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him to be an active member of the medical profession." `
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I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his `
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process of deduction. "When I hear you give your reasons," I `
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remarked, "the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously `
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simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each `
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successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you `
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explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good `
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as yours." `
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"Quite so," he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing `
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himself down into an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe. `
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The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen `
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the steps which lead up from the hall to this room." `
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"Frequently." `
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"How often?" `
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"Well, some hundreds of times." `
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"Then how many are there?" `
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"How many? I don't know." `
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"Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is `
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just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, `
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because I have both seen and observed. By-the-way, since you are `
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interested in these little problems, and since you are good `
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enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you `
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may be interested in this." He threw over a sheet of thick, `
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pink-tinted note-paper which had been lying open upon the table. `
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"It came by the last post," said he. "Read it aloud." `
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The note was undated, and without either signature or address. `
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"There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight `
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o'clock," it said, "a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a `
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matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of `
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the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may `
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safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which `
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can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all `
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quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do `
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not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask." `
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"This is indeed a mystery," I remarked. "What do you imagine that `
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it means?" `
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"I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before `
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one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit `
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theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. `
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What do you deduce from it?" `
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I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was `
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written. `
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"The man who wrote it was presumably well to do," I remarked, `
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endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes. "Such paper `
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could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly `
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strong and stiff." `
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"Peculiar--that is the very word," said Holmes. "It is not an `
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English paper at all. Hold it up to the light." `
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I did so, and saw a large "E" with a small "g," a "P," and a `
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large "G" with a small "t" woven into the texture of the paper. `
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"What do you make of that?" asked Holmes. `
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"The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather." `
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"Not at all. The 'G' with the small 't' stands for `
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'Gesellschaft,' which is the German for 'Company.' It is a `
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customary contraction like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for `
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'Papier.' Now for the 'Eg.' Let us glance at our Continental `
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Gazetteer." He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. `
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"Eglow, Eglonitz--here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking `
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