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 guesswork?"
"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 numbers 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 keyhole. 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 brainwork. 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 duncoloured 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 2
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, hawk-like 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 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 notebook.
"He disappeared upon the third 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
Thirty fourth 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 fourth 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 cardboard 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 yourself 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. Post-mark,
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 shall 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."
"Au revoir," said our visitor; and with a bright, kindly glance from
one to the other of us, she replaced her pearl-box in her bosom and
hurried away.
Standing at the window, I watched her walking briskly down the
street until the gray turban and white feather were but a speck in the
sombre crowd.
"What a very attractive woman!" I exclaimed, turning to my
companion.
He had lit his pipe again and was leaning back with drooping
eyelids. "Is she?" he said languidly, "I did not observe."
"You really are an automaton- a calculating machine," I cried.
"There is something positively inhuman in you at times."
He smiled gently.
"It is of the first importance," he cried, "not to allow your
judgment to be biased by personal qualities. A client is to me a
mere unit, a factor in a problem. The emotional qualities are
antagonistic to clear reasoning. I assure you that the most winning
woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for
their insurance-money, and the most repellent man of my acquaintance
is a philanthropist who has spent nearly a quarter of a million upon
the London poor."
"In this case, however-"
"I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule. Have
you ever had occasion to study character in handwriting? What do you
make of this fellow's scribble?"
"It is legible and regular," I answered. "A man of business habits
and some force of character."
Holmes shook his head.
"Look at his long letters," he said. "They hardly rise above the
common herd. That d might be an a, and that l an e. Men of character
always differentiate their long letters, however illegibly they may
write. There is vacillation in his k's and self-esteem in his
capitals. I am going out now. I have some few references to make.
Let me recommend this book- one of the most remarkable ever penned. It
is Winwood Reade's Martyrdom of Man. I shall be back in an hour."
I sat in the window with the volume in my hand, but my thoughts were
far from the daring speculations of the writer. My mind ran upon our
late visitor- her smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice, the
strange mystery which overhung her life. If she were seventeen at
the time of her father's disappearance she must be seven-and-twenty
now- a sweet age, when youth has lost its self-consciousness and
become a little sobered by experience. So I sat and mused until such
dangerous thoughts came into my head that I hurried away to my desk
