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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmesby Sir ArthurConan Doyle(#15 in our series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)Copyright laws arechanging all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your countrybefore downloading or redistributingthis or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.Thisheader should be the first thing seen when viewing this ProjectGutenberg file.Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit theheader without writtenpermission.Please read the "legal small print," and other information about theeBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included isimportantinformation about your specific rights and restrictions inhow the file may beused. You can also find out about how to make adonation to Project Gutenberg, andhow to get involved.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla ElectronicTexts****eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971*******TheseeBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****Title: The Adventures ofSherlock HolmesAuthor: Sir Arthur Conan DoyleRelease Date: March, 1999 [EBook#1661][Most recently updated: November 29, 2002]Edition: 12Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ASCII*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THEADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES ***(Additional editing by Jose Menendez)THEADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE I. A Scandal in BohemiaII. The Red-headed League III. A Case of Identity IV. The Boscombe Valley MysteryV. The Five Orange Pips VI. The Man with the Twisted Lip VII. The Adventure ofthe Blue CarbuncleVIII. The Adventure of the Speckled Band IX. The Adventure ofthe Engineer's Thumb X. The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor XI. The Adventureof the Beryl Coronet XII. The Adventure of the Copper BeechesADVENTURE I. ASCANDAL IN BOHEMIAI.To Sherlock Holmes she is always THE woman. I have seldomheardhim mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipsesandpredominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he feltany emotion akin to lovefor Irene Adler. All emotions, and thatone particularly, were abhorrent to hiscold, precise butadmirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfectreasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as alover he wouldhave placed himself in a false position. He neverspoke of the softer passions,save with a gibe and a sneer. Theywere admirable things for the observer--excellent for drawing theveil from men's motives and actions. But for the trainedreasonerto admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finelyadjustedtemperament was to introduce a distracting factor whichmight throw a doubt uponall his mental results. Grit in asensitive instrument, or a crack in one of hisown high-powerlenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in anature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, andthat woman was thelate Irene Adler, of dubious and questionablememory.I had seen little of Holmeslately. My marriage had drifted usaway from each other. My own complete happiness,and thehome-centred interests which rise up around the man who firstfinds himselfmaster of his own establishment, were sufficient toabsorb all my attention, whileHolmes, who loathed every form ofsociety with his whole Bohemian soul, remained inour lodgings inBaker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating fromweekto week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of thedrug, and the fierceenergy of his own keen nature. He was still,as ever, deeply attracted by the studyof crime, and occupied hisimmense faculties and extraordinary powers ofobservation infollowing out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries whichhadbeen abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From timeto time I heard somevague account of his doings: of his summonsto Odessa in the case of the Trepoffmurder, of his clearing upof the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers atTrincomalee,and finally of the mission which he had accomplished sodelicately andsuccessfully for the reigning family of Holland.Beyond these signs of hisactivity, however, which I merelyshared with all the readers of the daily press, Iknew little ofmy former friend and companion.One night--it was on the twentieth ofMarch, 1888--I wasreturning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned tocivil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As Ipassed the well-remembered door, which must always be associatedin my mind with my wooing, andwith the dark incidents of theStudy in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to
 
see Holmesagain, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers.Hisrooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I sawhis tall, spare figurepass twice in a dark silhouette againstthe blind. He was pacing the room swiftly,eagerly, with his headsunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me,whoknew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told theirown story. Hewas at work again. He had risen out of hisdrug-created dreams and was hot upon thescent of some newproblem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber whichhadformerly been in part my own.His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but hewas glad, Ithink, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindlyeye, hewaved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars,and indicated a spiritcase and a gasogene in the corner. Then hestood before the fire and looked me overin his singularintrospective fashion."Wedlock suits you," he remarked. "I think,Watson, that you haveput on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.""Seven!" Ianswered."Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more,I fancy,Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did nottell me that you intended togo into harness.""Then, how do you know?""I see it, I deduce it. How do I knowthat you have been gettingyourself very wet lately, and that you have a mostclumsy andcareless servant girl?""My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much. Youwould certainlyhave been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is truethatI had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadfulmess, but as I havechanged my clothes I can't imagine how youdeduce it. As to Mary Jane, she isincorrigible, and my wife hasgiven her notice, but there, again, I fail to see howyou work itout."He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous handstogether."It is simplicity itself," said he; "my eyes tell me that on theinside of yourleft shoe, just where the firelight strikes it,the leather is scored by six almostparallel cuts. Obviously theyhave been caused by someone who has very carelesslyscraped roundthe edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it.Hence,you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vileweather, and that youhad a particularly malignant boot-slittingspecimen of the London slavey. As toyour practice, if agentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with ablackmark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulgeon the rightside of his top-hat to show where he has secretedhis stethoscope, I must be dull,indeed, if I do not pronouncehim to be an active member of the medicalprofession."I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained hisprocess of deduction. "When I hear you give your reasons," Iremarked, "the thingalways appears to me to be so ridiculouslysimple that I could easily do it myself,though at eachsuccessive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until youexplainyour process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as goodas yours.""Quite so," heanswered, lighting a cigarette, and throwinghimself down into an armchair. "Yousee, but you do not observe.The distinction is clear. For example, you havefrequently seenthe steps which lead up from the hall to this room.""Frequently.""How often?""Well, some hundreds of times.""Then how many are there?""How many? Idon't know.""Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That isjustmy point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps,because I have both seen andobserved. By-the-way, since you areinterested in these little problems, and sinceyou are goodenough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, youmay beinterested in this." He threw over a sheet of thick,pink-tinted note-paper whichhad been lying open upon the table."It came by the last post," said he. "Read italoud."The note was undated, and without either signature or address."There willcall upon you to-night, at a quarter to eighto'clock," it said, "a gentleman whodesires to consult you upon amatter of the very deepest moment. Your recentservices to one ofthe royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who maysafely be trusted with matters which are of an importance whichcan hardly beexaggerated. This account of you we have from allquarters received. Be in yourchamber then at that hour, and donot take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask.""This is indeed a mystery," I remarked. "What do you imagine thatit means?""I haveno data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize beforeone has data. Insensiblyone begins to twist facts to suittheories, instead of theories to suit facts. But
 
the note itself.What do you deduce from it?"I carefully examined the writing, andthe paper upon which it waswritten."The man who wrote it was presumably well todo," I remarked,endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes. "Such papercouldnot be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarlystrong and stiff.""Peculiar--that is the very word," said Holmes. "It is not anEnglishpaper at all. Hold it up to the light."I did so, and saw a large "E" with a small"g," a "P," and alarge "G" with a small "t" woven into the texture of the paper."What do you make of that?" asked Holmes."The name of the maker, no doubt; or hismonogram, rather.""Not at all. The 'G' with the small 't' stands for'Gesellschaft,' which is the German for 'Company.' It is acustomary contractionlike our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for'Papier.' Now for the 'Eg.' Let us glanceat our ContinentalGazetteer." He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves."Eglow, Eglonitz--here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speakingcountry--inBohemia, not far from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as beingthe scene of the death ofWallenstein, and for its numerousglass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha, ha, my boy,what do youmake of that?" His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great bluetriumphantcloud from his cigarette."The paper was made in Bohemia," I said."Precisely. Andthe man who wrote the note is a German. Do younote the peculiar construction ofthe sentence--'This account ofyou we have from all quarters received.' A Frenchmanor Russiancould not have written that. It is the German who is souncourteous tohis verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discoverwhat is wanted by this Germanwho writes upon Bohemian paper andprefers wearing a mask to showing his face. Andhere he comes, ifI am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts."As he spoke therewas the sharp sound of horses' hoofs andgrating wheels against the curb, followedby a sharp pull at thebell. Holmes whistled."A pair, by the sound," said he."Yes," he continued, glancingout of the window. "A nice little brougham and a pairofbeauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There's money inthis case, Watson,if there is nothing else.""I think that I had better go, Holmes.""Not a bit,Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without myBoswell. And this promises to beinteresting. It would be a pityto miss it.""But your client--""Never mind him. Imay want your help, and so may he. Here hecomes. Sit down in that armchair,Doctor, and give us your bestattention."A slow and heavy step, which had beenheard upon the stairs andin the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Thentherewas a loud and authoritative tap."Come in!" said Holmes.A man entered whocould hardly have been less than six feet sixinches in height, with the chest andlimbs of a Hercules. Hisdress was rich with a richness which would, in England, belookedupon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashedacross thesleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, whilethe deep blue cloak which wasthrown over his shoulders was linedwith flame-coloured silk and secured at theneck with a broochwhich consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extendedhalfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops withrich brown fur,completed the impression of barbaric opulencewhich was suggested by his wholeappearance. He carried abroad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across theupperpart of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a blackvizard mask,which he had apparently adjusted that very moment,for his hand was still raised toit as he entered. From the lowerpart of the face he appeared to be a man of strongcharacter,with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestiveofresolution pushed to the length of obstinacy."You had my note?" he asked with adeep harsh voice and astrongly marked German accent. "I told you that I wouldcall." Helooked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which toaddress."Praytake a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend andcolleague, Dr. Watson, who isoccasionally good enough to help mein my cases. Whom have I the honour toaddress?""You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman.Iunderstand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honourand discretion,whom I may trust with a matter of the mostextreme importance. If not, I shouldmuch prefer to communicatewith you alone."I rose to go, but Holmes caught me bythe wrist and pushed meback into my chair. "It is both, or none," said he. "Youmay saybefore this gentleman anything which you may say to me."The Count shrugged
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