glanced round and sprang to his feet with a cry of pleasure. "I've
found it! I've found it," he shouted to my companion, running towards
us with a test-tube in his hand. "I have found a re-agent which is
precipitated by hoemoglobin, and by nothing else." Had he discovered
a gold mine, greater delight could not have shone upon his features.
"Dr. Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said Stamford, introducing us.
"How are you?" he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength
for which I should hardly have given him credit. "You have been in
Afghanistan, I perceive."
"How on earth did you know that?" I asked in astonishment.
"Never mind," said he, chuckling to himself. "The question now is
about hoemoglobin. No doubt you see the significance of this
discovery of mine?"
"It is interesting, chemically, no doubt," I answered, "but
practically--"
"Why, man, it is the most practical medico-legal discovery for years.
Don't you see that it gives us an infallible test for blood stains.
Come over here now!" He seized me by the coat-sleeve in his
eagerness, and drew me over to the table at which he had been
working. "Let us have some fresh blood," he said, digging a long
bodkin into his finger, and drawing off the resulting drop of blood
in a chemical pipette. "Now, I add this small quantity of blood to a
litre of water. You perceive that the resulting mixture has the
appearance of pure water. The proportion of blood cannot be more than
one in a million. I have no doubt, however, that we shall be able to
obtain the characteristic reaction." As he spoke, he threw into the
vessel a few white crystals, and then added some drops of a
transparent fluid. In an instant the contents assumed a dull mahogany
colour, and a brownish dust was precipitated to the bottom of the
glass jar.
"Ha! ha!" he cried, clapping his hands, and looking as delighted as a
child with a new toy. "What do you think of that?"
"It seems to be a very delicate test," I remarked.
"Beautiful! beautiful! The old Guiacum test was very clumsy and
uncertain. So is the microscopic examination for blood corpuscles.
The latter is valueless if the stains are a few hours old. Now, this
appears to act as well whether the blood is old or new. Had this test
been invented, there are hundreds of men now walking the earth who
would long ago have paid the penalty of their crimes."
"Indeed!" I murmured.
"Criminal cases are continually hinging upon that one point. A man is
suspected of a crime months perhaps after it has been committed. His
linen or clothes are examined, and brownish stains discovered upon
them. Are they blood stains, or mud stains, or rust stains, or fruit
stains, or what are they? That is a question which has puzzled many
an expert, and why? Because there was no reliable test. Now we have
the Sherlock Holmes' test, and there will no longer be any
difficulty."
His eyes fairly glittered as he spoke, and he put his hand over his
heart and bowed as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his
imagination.
"You are to be congratulated," I remarked, considerably surprised at
his enthusiasm.
"There was the case of Von Bischoff at Frankfort last year. He would
certainly have been hung had this test been in existence. Then there
was Mason of Bradford, and the notorious Muller, and Lefevre of
Montpellier, and Samson of new Orleans. I could name a score of cases
in which it would have been decisive."
"You seem to be a walking calendar of crime," said Stamford with a
laugh. "You might start a paper on those lines. Call it the 'Police
News of the Past.'"
"Very interesting reading it might be made, too," remarked Sherlock
Holmes, sticking a small piece of plaster over the prick on his
finger. "I have to be careful," he continued, turning to me with a
smile, "for I dabble with poisons a good deal." He held out his hand
as he spoke, and I noticed that it was all mottled over with similar
pieces of plaster, and discoloured with strong acids.
"We came here on business," said Stamford, sitting down on a high
three-legged stool, and pushing another one in my direction with his
foot. "My friend here wants to take diggings, and as you were
complaining that you could get no one to go halves with you, I
thought that I had better bring you together."
Sherlock Holmes seemed delighted at the idea of sharing his rooms
with me. "I have my eye on a suite in Baker Street," he said, "which
would suit us down to the ground. You don't mind the smell of strong
tobacco, I hope?"
"I always smoke 'ship's' myself," I answered.
"That's good enough. I generally have chemicals about, and
occasionally do experiments. Would that annoy you?"
"By no means."
"Let me see--what are my other shortcomings. I get in the dumps at
times, and don't open my mouth for days on end. You must not think I
am sulky when I do that. Just let me alone, and I'll soon be right.
What have you to confess now? It's just as well for two fellows to
know the worst of one another before they begin to live together."
I laughed at this cross-examination. "I keep a bull pup," I said,
"and I object to rows because my nerves are shaken, and I get up at
all sorts of ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. I have another
set of vices when I'm well, but those are the principal ones at
present."
"Do you include violin-playing in your category of rows?" he asked,
anxiously.
"It depends on the player," I answered. "A well-played violin is a
treat for the gods--a badly-played one--"
"Oh, that's all right," he cried, with a merry laugh. "I think we may
consider the thing as settled--that is, if the rooms are agreeable to
you."
"When shall we see them?"
"Call for me here at noon to-morrow, and we'll go together and settle
everything," he answered.
"All right--noon exactly," said I, shaking his hand.
We left him working among his chemicals, and we walked together
towards my hotel.
"By the way," I asked suddenly, stopping and turning upon Stamford,
"how the deuce did he know that I had come from Afghanistan?"
My companion smiled an enigmatical smile. "That's just his little
peculiarity," he said. "A good many people have wanted to know how he
finds things out."
"Oh! a mystery is it?" I cried, rubbing my hands. "This is very
piquant. I am much obliged to you for bringing us together. 'The
proper study of mankind is man,' you know."
"You must study him, then," Stamford said, as he bade me good-bye.
"You'll find him a knotty problem, though. I'll wager he learns more
about you than you about him. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," I answered, and strolled on to my hotel, considerably
interested in my new acquaintance.
CHAPTER II
The Science Of Deduction
We met next day as he had arranged, and inspected the rooms at No.
221b, Baker Street, of which he had spoken at our meeting. They
consisted of a couple of comfortable bed-rooms and a single large
airy sitting-room, cheerfully furnished, and illuminated by two broad
windows. So desirable in every way were the apartments, and so
moderate did the terms seem when divided between us, that the bargain
was concluded upon the spot, and we at once entered into possession.
That very evening I moved my things round from the hotel, and on the
following morning Sherlock Holmes followed me with several boxes and
portmanteaus. For a day or two we were busily employed in unpacking
and laying out our property to the best advantage. That done, we
gradually began to settle down and to accommodate ourselves to our
new surroundings.
Holmes was certainly not a difficult man to live with. He was quiet
in his ways, and his habits were regular. It was rare for him to be
up after ten at night, and he had invariably breakfasted and gone out
before I rose in the morning. Sometimes he spent his day at the
chemical laboratory, sometimes in the dissecting-rooms, and
occasionally in long walks, which appeared to take him into the
lowest portions of the City. Nothing could exceed his energy when the
working fit was upon him; but now and again a reaction would seize
him, and for days on end he would lie upon the sofa in the
sitting-room, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from morning
to night. On these occasions I have noticed such a dreamy, vacant
expression in his eyes, that I might have suspected him of being
addicted to the use of some narcotic, had not the temperance and
cleanliness of his whole life forbidden such a notion.
As the weeks went by, my interest in him and my curiosity as to his
aims in life, gradually deepened and increased. His very person and
appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual
observer. In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively
lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp
and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have
alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an
air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and
squareness which mark the man of determination. His hands were
invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was
possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had
occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile
philosophical instruments.
The reader may set me down as a hopeless busybody, when I confess how
much this man stimulated my curiosity, and how often I endeavoured to
break through the reticence which he showed on all that concerned
himself. Before pronouncing judgment, however, be it remembered, how
objectless was my life, and how little there was to engage my
attention. My health forbade me from venturing out unless the weather
was exceptionally genial, and I had no friends who would call upon me
and break the monotony of my daily existence. Under these
circumstances, I eagerly hailed the little mystery which hung around
my companion, and spent much of my time in endeavouring to unravel
it.
He was not studying medicine. He had himself, in reply to a question,
confirmed Stamford's opinion upon that point. Neither did he appear
to have pursued any course of reading which might fit him for a
degree in science or any other recognized portal which would give him
an entrance into the learned world. Yet his zeal for certain studies
was remarkable, and within eccentric limits his knowledge was so
extraordinarily ample and minute that his observations have fairly
astounded me. Surely no man would work so hard or attain such precise
information unless he had some definite end in view. Desultory
readers are seldom remarkable for the exactness of their learning. No
man burdens his mind with small matters unless he has some very good
reason for doing so.
His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporary
literature, philosophy and politics he appeared to know next to
nothing. Upon my quoting Thomas Carlyle, he inquired in the naivest
way who he might be and what he had done. My surprise reached a
climax, however, when I found incidentally that he was ignorant of
the Copernican Theory and of the composition of the Solar System.
That any civilized human being in this nineteenth century should not
be aware that the earth travelled round the sun appeared to be to me
such an extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it.
"You appear to be astonished," he said, smiling at my expression of
surprise. "Now that I do know it I shall do my best to forget it."
"To forget it!"
"You see," he explained, "I consider that a man's brain originally is
like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such
furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort
that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to
him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other
things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now
the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into
his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help
him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and
all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that
little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend
upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you
forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest
importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the
useful ones."
"But the Solar System!" I protested.
