{- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,          -}
{- by Arthur Conan Doyle                                                      -}
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{-                                                                            -}
{- Title: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes                                   -}
{- Author: Arthur Conan Doyle                                                 -}
{- Release Date: November 29, 2002 [eBook #1661]                              -}
{- [Most recently updated: May 20, 2019]                                      -}
{- Language: English                                                          -}
{- Produced by: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez    -}
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{- The following is a (random and modified) excerpt from the book             -}
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dwell upon it further. above all, try to let mr. hosmer angel
vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life."
"then you don't think i'll see him again?"
"i fear not."
"then what has happened to him?"
"you will leave that question in my hands. i should like an
accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can
spare."
"i advertised for him in last saturday's chronicle," said she.
"here is the slip and here are four letters from him."
"thank you. and your address?"
"no. 31 lyon place, camberwell."
"mr. angel's address you never had, i understand. where is your
father's place of business?"
"he travels for westhouse & marbank, the great claret importers
of fenchurch street."
"thank you. you have made your statement very clearly. you will
leave the papers here, and remember the advice which i have given
you. let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it
to affect your life."
"you are very kind, mr. holmes, but i cannot do that. i shall be
true to hosmer. he shall find me ready when he comes back."
for all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was
something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which
compelled our respect. she laid her little bundle of papers upon
the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever
she might be summoned.
sherlock holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips
still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him,
and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. then he took down
from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a
counsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with
the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look of
infinite languor in his face.
"quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "i found
her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way,
is rather a trite one. you will find parallel cases, if you
consult my index, in andover in '77, and there was something of
the sort at the hague last year. old as is the idea, however,
there were one or two details which were new to me. but the
maiden herself was most instructive."
"you appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite
invisible to me," i remarked.
"not invisible but unnoticed, watson. you did not know where to
look, and so you missed all that was important. i can never bring
you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of
thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace.
now, what did you gather from that woman's appearance? describe
it."
"well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a
feather of a brickish red. her jacket was black, with black beads
sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. her
dress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little
purple plush at the neck and sleeves. her gloves were greyish and
were worn through at the right forefinger. her boots i didn't
observe. she had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a
general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable,
easy-going way."
sherlock holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled.
"'pon my word, watson, you are coming along wonderfully. you have
really done very well indeed. it is true that you have missed
everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and
you have a quick eye for colour. never trust to general
impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. my
first glance is always at a woman's sleeve. in a man it is
perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. as you
observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most
useful material for showing traces. the double line a little
above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table,
was beautifully defined. the sewing-machine, of the hand type,
leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side
of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the
broadest part, as this was. i then glanced at her face, and,
observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, i
ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed
to surprise her."
"it surprised me."
"but, surely, it was obvious. i was then much surprised and
interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots
which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were
really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and
the other a plain one. one was buttoned only in the two lower
buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and
fifth. now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly
dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned,
it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry."
"and what else?" i asked, keenly interested, as i always was, by
my friend's incisive reasoning.
"i noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving
home but after being fully dressed. you observed that her right
glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see
that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. she had
written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. it must have been
this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger.
all this is amusing, though rather elementary, but i must go back
to business, watson. would you mind reading me the advertised
description of mr. hosmer angel?"
i held the little printed slip to the light.
"missing," it said, "on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman
named hosmer angel. about five ft. seven in. in height;
strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in
