A Study In Scarlet - The Original Classic Edition. Doyle Arthur

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      A Study In Scarlet, by Arthur Conan Doyle

       Title: A Study In Scarlet

       Author: Arthur Conan Doyle

       Release Date: July 12, 2008 [EBook #244] Language: English

       *** A STUDY IN SCARLET ***

       Produced by Roger Squires, and David Widger

       A STUDY IN SCARLET. By A. Conan Doyle

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       Original Transcriber's Note: This etext is prepared directly from an 1887 edition, and care has been taken to duplicate the original exactly, including typographical and punctuation vagaries.

       Additions to the text include adding the underscore character to indicate italics, and textual end-notes in square braces.

       Project Editor's Note: In reproofing and moving old PG files such as this to the present PG directory system it is the policy to reformat the text to conform to present PG Standards. In this case however, in consideration of the note above of the original transcriber describing his care to try to duplicate the original 1887 edtion as to typography and punctuation vagaries, no changes have been made in the ascii text file. However, in the Latin-1 file and this html file, present standards are followed and the several French and Spanish words have been given their proper accents.

       Contents

       A STUDY IN SCARLET.

       PART I.

       1

       CHAPTER I. MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES. CHAPTER II. THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION. CHAPTER III. THE LAURISTON GARDEN MYSTERY [6] CHAPTER IV. WHAT JOHN RANCE HAD TO TELL.

       CHAPTER V. OUR ADVERTISEMENT BRINGS A VISITOR. CHAPTER VI. TOBIAS GREGSON SHOWS WHAT HE CAN DO. CHAPTER VII. LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS.

       PART II. THE COUNTRY OF THE SAINTS CHAPTER I. ON THE GREAT ALKALI PLAIN. CHAPTER II. THE FLOWER OF UTAH.

       CHAPTER III. JOHN FERRIER TALKS WITH THE PROPHET. CHAPTER IV. A FLIGHT FOR LIFE.

       CHAPTER V. THE AVENGING ANGELS.

       CHAPTER VI. A CONTINUATION OF THE REMINISCENCES OF JOHN WATSON, M.D. CHAPTER VII. THE CONCLUSION.

       ORIGINAL TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

       A STUDY IN SCARLET.

       PART I.

       (Being a reprint from the reminiscences of JOHN H. WATSON, M.D., late of the Army Medical Department.) 2

       CHAPTER I. MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES.

       IN the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out. On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy's country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Canda-

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       har in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duties.

       The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of Maiwand. There I was struck on the shoulder

       by a Jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw me across a pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines.

       Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had undergone, I was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, to the base hospital at Peshawar. Here I rallied, and had already improved so far as to be able to walk about the wards, and even to bask a little upon the verandah, when I was struck down by enteric fever, that curse of our Indian possessions. For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated that a medi-

       cal board determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to England. I was dispatched, accordingly, in the troopship "Orontes," and landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my health irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a paternal government to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it.

       I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as air--or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. There I stayed for some time at a private hotel in the Strand, leading a comfortless, meaningless existence, and spending such money as I had, considerably more freely than I ought. So alarming did the state of my finances become, that I soon realized that I must either leave the metropolis and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that I must make a complete alteration in my style of living. Choosing the latter alternative, I began by making up my mind to leave the hotel, and to take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less expensive domicile.

       On the very day that I had come to this conclusion, I was standing at the Criterion Bar, when some one tapped me on the shoulder, and turning round I recognized young Stamford, who had been a dresser under me at Barts. The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man. In old days Stamford had never been a particular crony of mine, but now I hailed him with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn, appeared to be delighted to see me. In the exuberance of my joy, I asked him to lunch with me at the Holborn, and we started off together in a hansom.

       "Whatever have you been doing with yourself, Watson?" he asked in undisguised wonder, as we rattled through the crowded London streets. "You are as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut."

       I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and had hardly concluded it by the time that we reached our destination. "Poor devil!" he said, commiseratingly, after he had listened to my misfortunes. "What are you up to now?"

       "Looking for lodgings." 3 I answered. "Trying to solve the problem as to whether it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable price."

       "That's a strange thing," remarked my companion; "you are the second man to-day that has used that expression to me."

       "And who was the first?" I asked.

       "A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which were too much for his purse."

       "By Jove!" I cried, "if he really wants someone to share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer hav-ing a partner to being alone."

       Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over his wine-glass. "You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet," he said; "perhaps you would not care for him as a constant companion."

       "Why, what is there against him?"

       "Oh, I didn't say there was

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