6.              Geology. -- Practical, but limited.
                                Tells at a glance different soils
                                from each other.  After walks has
                                shown me splashes upon his trousers,
                                and told me by their colour and
                                consistence in what part of London
                                he had received them.
   7.              Chemistry. -- Profound.
   8.              Anatomy. -- Accurate, but unsystematic.
   9.              Sensational Literature. -- Immense.  He appears
                               to know every detail of every horror
                               perpetrated in the century.
   10. Plays the violin well.
   11. Is an expert singlestick player, boxer, and swordsman.
   12. Has a good practical knowledge of British law.
   When I had got so far in my list I threw it into the fire in
   despair.  "If I can only find what the fellow is driving at
   by reconciling all these accomplishments, and discovering a
   calling which needs them all," I said to myself, "I may as
   well give up the attempt at once."
   I see that I have alluded above to his powers upon the violin.
   These were very remarkable, but as eccentric as all his other
   accomplishments.  That he could play pieces, and difficult pieces,
   I knew well, because at my request he has played me some of
   Mendelssohn's Lieder, and other favourites.
   When left to himself, however, he would seldom produce any
   music or attempt any recognized air.  Leaning back in his
   arm-chair of an evening, he would close his eyes and scrape
   carelessly at the fiddle which was thrown across his knee.
   Sometimes the chords were sonorous and melancholy.
   Occasionally they were fantastic and cheerful.  Clearly they
   reflected the thoughts which possessed him, but whether the
   music aided those thoughts, or whether the playing was simply
   the result of a whim or fancy was more than I could determine.
   I might have rebelled against these exasperating solos had it
   not been that he usually terminated them by playing in quick
   succession a whole series of my favourite airs as a slight
   compensation for the trial upon my patience.
   During the first week or so we had no callers, and I had
   begun to think that my companion was as friendless a man as
   I was myself.  Presently, however, I found that he had many
   acquaintances, and those in the most different classes of
   society.  There was one little sallow rat-faced, dark-eyed
   fellow who was introduced to me as Mr. Lestrade, and who came
   three or four times in a single week.  One morning a young
   girl called, fashionably dressed, and stayed for half an hour
   or more.  The same afternoon brought a grey-headed, seedy
   visitor, looking like a Jew pedlar, who appeared to me to be
   much excited, and who was closely followed by a slip-shod
   elderly woman.  On another occasion an old white-haired
   gentleman had an interview with my companion; and on another
   a railway porter in his velveteen uniform.  When any of these
   nondescript individuals put in an appearance, Sherlock Holmes
   used to beg for the use of the sitting-room, and I would
   retire to my bed-room.  He always apologized to me for
   putting me to this inconvenience.  "I have to use this room
   as a place of business," he said, "and these people are my
   clients."  Again I had an opportunity of asking him a point
   blank question, and again my delicacy prevented me from
   forcing another man to confide in me.  I imagined at the time
   that he had some strong reason for not alluding to it, but he
   soon dispelled the idea by coming round to the subject of his
   own accord.
   It was upon the 4th of March, as I have good reason to remember,
   that I rose somewhat earlier than usual, and found that Sherlock
   Holmes had not yet finished his breakfast.  The landlady had
   become so accustomed to my late habits that my place had not been
   laid nor my coffee prepared.  With the unreasonable petulance
   of mankind I rang the bell and gave a curt intimation that I was
   ready.  Then I picked up a magazine from the table and attempted
   to while away the time with it, while my companion munched
   silently at his toast.  One of the articles had a pencil mark
   at the heading, and I naturally began to run my eye through it.
   Its somewhat ambitious title was "The Book of Life," and it
   attempted to show how much an observant man might learn by an
   accurate and systematic examination of all that came in his
   way.  It struck me as being a remarkable mixture of
   shrewdness and of absurdity.  The reasoning was close and
   intense, but the deductions appeared to me to be far-fetched
   and exaggerated.  The writer claimed by a momentary expression,
   a twitch of a muscle or a glance of an eye, to fathom a man's
   inmost thoughts.  Deceit, according to him, was an impossibility
   in the case of one trained to observation and analysis.
   His conclusions were as infallible as so many propositions
   of Euclid.  So startling would his results appear to the
   uninitiated that until they learned the processes by which he had
   arrived at them they might well consider him as a necromancer.
   "From a drop of water," said the writer, "a logician could
   infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without
   having seen or heard of one or the other.  So all life is
   a great chain, the nature of which is known whenever we are
   shown a single link of it.  Like all other arts, the Science
   of Deduction and Analysis is one which can only be acquired
   by long and patient study nor is life long enough to allow
   any mortal to attain the highest possible perfection in it.
   Before turning to those moral and mental aspects of the
   matter which present the greatest difficulties, let the
   enquirer begin by mastering more elementary problems.
   Let him, on meeting a fellow-mortal, learn at a glance to
   distinguish the history of the man, and the trade or
   profession to which he belongs.  Puerile as such an exercise
   may seem, it sharpens the faculties of observation, and
   teaches one where to look and what to look for.  By a man's
   finger nails, by his coat-sleeve, by his boot, by his trouser
   knees, by the callosities of his forefinger and thumb, by his
   expression, by his shirt cuffs -- by each of these things a
   man's calling is plainly revealed.  That all united should
   fail to enlighten the competent enquirer in any case is
   almost inconceivable."
   "What ineffable twaddle!" I cried, slapping the magazine down
   on the table, "I never read such rubbish in my life."
   "What is it?" asked Sherlock Holmes.
   "Why, this article," I said, pointing at it with my egg spoon
   as I sat down to my breakfast.  "I see that you have read it
   since you have marked it.  I don't deny that it is smartly
   written.  It irritates me though.  It is evidently the theory
   of some arm-chair lounger who evolves all these neat little
					     					 			br />
   paradoxes in the seclusion of his own study.  It is not
   practical.  I should like to see him clapped down in a third
   class carriage on the Underground, and asked to give the
   trades of all his fellow-travellers.  I would lay a thousand
   to one against him."
   "You would lose your money," Sherlock Holmes remarked calmly.
   "As for the article I wrote it myself."
   "You!"
   "Yes, I have a turn both for observation and for deduction.
   The theories which I have expressed there, and which appear
   to you to be so chimerical are really extremely practical --
   so practical that I depend upon them for my bread and cheese."
   "And how?" I asked involuntarily.
   "Well, I have a trade of my own.  I suppose I am the only one
   in the world.  I'm a consulting detective, if you can
   understand what that is.  Here in London we have lots of
   Government detectives and lots of private ones.  When these
   fellows are at fault they come to me, and I manage to put
   them on the right scent.  They lay all the evidence before
   me, and I am generally able, by the help of my knowledge of
   the history of crime, to set them straight.  There is a
   strong family resemblance about misdeeds, and if you have all
   the details of a thousand at your finger ends, it is odd if
   you can't unravel the thousand and first.  Lestrade is a
   well-known detective.  He got himself into a fog recently
   over a forgery case, and that was what brought him here."
   "And these other people?"
   "They are mostly sent on by private inquiry agencies.
   They are all people who are in trouble about something,
   and want a little enlightening.  I listen to their story,
   they listen to my comments, and then I pocket my fee."
   "But do you mean to say," I said, "that without leaving your
   room you can unravel some knot which other men can make nothing
   of, although they have seen every detail for themselves?"
   "Quite so.  I have a kind of intuition that way.
   Now and again a case turns up which is a little more complex.
   Then I have to bustle about and see things with my own eyes.
   You see I have a lot of special knowledge which I apply to
   the problem, and which facilitates matters wonderfully.
   Those rules of deduction laid down in that article which
   aroused your scorn, are invaluable to me in practical work.
   Observation with me is second nature.  You appeared to be
   surprised when I told you, on our first meeting, that you had
   come from Afghanistan."
   "You were told, no doubt."
   "Nothing of the sort.  I _knew_ you came from Afghanistan.
   From long habit the train of thoughts ran so swiftly through
   my mind, that I arrived at the conclusion without being
   conscious of intermediate steps.  There were such steps,
   however.  The train of reasoning ran, `Here is a gentleman of
   a medical type, but with the air of a military man.  Clearly
   an army doctor, then.  He has just come from the tropics,
   for his face is dark, and that is not the natural tint of his
   skin, for his wrists are fair.  He has undergone hardship and
   sickness, as his haggard face says clearly.  His left arm has
   been injured.  He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner.
   Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen
   much hardship and got his arm wounded?  Clearly in Afghanistan.'
   The whole train of thought did not occupy a second.  I then
   remarked that you came from Afghanistan, and you were astonished."
   "It is simple enough as you explain it," I said, smiling.
   "You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe's Dupin.  I had no idea
   that such individuals did exist outside of stories."
   Sherlock Holmes rose and lit his pipe.  "No doubt you think
   that you are complimenting me in comparing me to Dupin,"
   he observed.  "Now, in my opinion, Dupin was a very inferior
   fellow.  That trick of his of breaking in on his friends'
   thoughts with an apropos remark after a quarter of an hour's
   silence is really very showy and superficial.  He had some
   analytical genius, no doubt; but he was by no means such
   a phenomenon as Poe appeared to imagine."
   "Have you read Gaboriau's works?" I asked.
   "Does Lecoq come up to your idea of a detective?"
   Sherlock Holmes sniffed sardonically.  "Lecoq was a miserable
   bungler," he said, in an angry voice; "he had only one thing
   to recommend him, and that was his energy.  That book made me
   positively ill.  The question was how to identify an unknown
   prisoner.  I could have done it in twenty-four hours.  Lecoq
   took six months or so.  It might be made a text-book for
   detectives to teach them what to avoid."
   I felt rather indignant at having two characters whom I had
   admired treated in this cavalier style.  I walked over to the
   window, and stood looking out into the busy street.
   "This fellow may be very clever," I said to myself, "but he
   is certainly very conceited."
   "There are no crimes and no criminals in these days," he said,
   querulously.  "What is the use of having brains in our
   profession.  I know well that I have it in me to make my name
   famous.  No man lives or has ever lived who has brought the
   same amount of study and of natural talent to the detection
   of crime which I have done.  And what is the result?  There
   is no crime to detect, or, at most, some bungling villany
   with a motive so transparent that even a Scotland Yard
   official can see through it."
   I was still annoyed at his bumptious style of conversation.
   I thought it best to change the topic.
   "I wonder what that fellow is looking for?" I asked, pointing
   to a stalwart, plainly-dressed individual who was walking
   slowly down the other side of the street, looking anxiously
   at the numbers.  He had a large blue envelope in his hand,
   and was evidently the bearer of a message.
   "You mean the retired sergeant of Marines," said Sherlock Holmes.
   "Brag and bounce!" thought I to myself.  "He knows that I
   cannot verify his guess."
   The thought had hardly passed through my mind when the man
   whom we were watching caught sight of the number on our door,
   and ran rapidly across the roadway.  We heard a loud knock,
   a deep voice below, and heavy steps ascending the stair.
   "For Mr. Sherlock Holmes," he said, stepping into the room
   and handing my friend the letter.
   Here was an opportunity of taking the conceit out of him.
   He little thought of this when he made that random shot.
   "May I ask, my lad," I said, in the blandest voice,
   "what your trade may be?"
   "Commissionaire, sir," he said, gruffly.
   "Uniform away for repairs."
   "And you were?" I asked, with a slightly malicious glance
   at my companion.
   "A sergeant, sir, Royal Marine Light Infantry, sir.
   No answer?  Right, sir."
   He clicked his heels together, raised his hand in a salute,
   and was gone.
   CHAPTER III.
   THE LAURISTON GARDEN MYSTERY {6}
   I CONFESS that I  
					     					 			was considerably startled by this fresh
   proof of the practical nature of my companion's theories.
   My respect for his powers of analysis increased wondrously.
   There still remained some lurking suspicion in my mind,
   however, that the whole thing was a pre-arranged episode,
   intended to dazzle me, though what earthly object he could
   have in taking me in was past my comprehension.
   When I looked at him he had finished reading the note,
   and his eyes had assumed the vacant, lack-lustre expression
   which showed mental abstraction.
   "How in the world did you deduce that?" I asked.
   "Deduce what?" said he, petulantly.
   "Why, that he was a retired sergeant of Marines."
   "I have no time for trifles," he answered, brusquely;
   then with a smile, "Excuse my rudeness.  You broke the thread
   of my thoughts; but perhaps it is as well.  So you actually were
   not able to see that that man was a sergeant of Marines?"
   "No, indeed."
   "It was easier to know it than to explain why I knew it.
   If you were asked to prove that two and two made four, you might
   find some difficulty, and yet you are quite sure of the fact.
   Even across the street I could see a great blue anchor
   tattooed on the back of the fellow's hand.  That smacked of
   the sea.  He had a military carriage, however, and regulation
   side whiskers. There we have the marine.  He was a man with
   some amount of self-importance and a certain air of command.
   You must have observed the way in which he held his head and
   swung his cane.  A steady, respectable, middle-aged man, too,
   on the face of him -- all facts which led me to believe that
   he had been a sergeant."
   "Wonderful!" I ejaculated.
   "Commonplace," said Holmes, though I thought from his
   expression that he was pleased at my evident surprise and
   admiration.  "I said just now that there were no criminals.
   It appears that I am wrong -- look at this!"  He threw me
   over the note which the commissionaire had brought." {7}
   "Why," I cried, as I cast my eye over it, "this is terrible!"
   "It does seem to be a little out of the common," he remarked,
   calmly.  "Would you mind reading it to me aloud?"
   This is the letter which I read to him ----
   "MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES, -- "There has been a bad
   business during the night at 3, Lauriston Gardens, off the
   Brixton Road.  Our man on the beat saw a light there about
   two in the morning, and as the house was an empty one,
   suspected that something was amiss.  He found the door open,
   and in the front room, which is bare of furniture, discovered
   the body of a gentleman, well dressed, and having cards in
   his pocket bearing the name of `Enoch J. Drebber, Cleveland,
   Ohio, U.S.A.'  There had been no robbery, nor is there any
   evidence as to how the man met his death.  There are marks
   of blood in the room, but there is no wound upon his person.
   We are at a loss as to how he came into the empty house;
   indeed, the whole affair is a puzzler.  If you can come round
   to the house any time before twelve, you will find me there.
   I have left everything _in statu quo_ until I hear from you.
   If you are unable to come I shall give you fuller details,
   and would esteem it a great kindness if you would favour me
   with your opinion.  Yours faithfully,    "TOBIAS GREGSON."
   "Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yarders,"
   my friend remarked; "he and Lestrade are the pick of a bad lot.
   They are both quick and energetic, but conventional -- shockingly
   so.  They have their knives into one another, too.  They are
   as jealous as a pair of professional beauties.  There will be
   some fun over this case if they are both put upon the scent."
   I was amazed at the calm way in which he rippled on.