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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 take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less expensive domicile.”“I should like to meet him,” I said. “If I am to lodge with anyone, I should prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. I am not strong enough yet to stand much noise or excitement. I had enough of both in Afghanistan to last me for the remainder of my natural existence.”“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.”“You don’t mind the smell of strong tobacco, I hope?”“I always smoke ‘ships’s’ myself,” I answered.“My health forbade me from venturing out unless the weather was exceptionally genial, and I had no friends who would call upon me to break the monotony of my daily existence.”“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 or my coffee prepared.”“What ineffable twaddle!” I cried, slapping the magazine down on the table; “I never read such rubbish in my life.”Crime and Deduction“I have a turn both for observation and 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.”“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 the article which aroused your scorn are invaluable to me in practical work. Observation with me is second nature.”“Well, I have a trade of my own. I suppose I am the only one in the world. I am 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 evidence before me, and I am generally able, by my the help of my knowledge of the history of crime to set them straight.”“From a drop of water,” said the writer, “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.”“There are no crimes and no criminals in these days,” he said, querulously. “What is there 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 detection of crime which I have done. And what is the result? There is no crime to detect, or, at most, some bungling villain with a motive so transparent that even a Scotland Yard official can see through it.”“No data yet,” he answered. “It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. It biases the judgment.”Sherlock Holmes drew a long breath, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “I should have more faith,” he said; “I ought to know by this time that when a fact appears to be opposed to a long train of deductions, it invariably proves to be capable of bearing some other interpretation.”“It is a mistake to confound strangeness with mystery. The most commonplace crime is often the most mysterious, because it presents no new or special features from which deductions may be drawn.”— “These strange details, far from making the case more difficult, have really had the effect of making it less so.”“I have already explained to you that what is out of the common is usually a guide rather than a hindrance. In solving a problem of the sort, the grand thing is to be able to reason backward. That is a very useful accomplishment, and a very easy one, but people do not practise it much. In the everyday affairs of life it is more useful to reason forward, and so the other comes to be neglected. There are fifty who can reason systematically for one who can reason analytically.”— “There are few people, however, who, if you told them a result would be able to evoke from their own inner consciousness what the steps were which led up to that result. This power is what I mean when I talk of reasoning backward, and analytically.”“There is no branch of detective science which is more important and so much neglected as the art of tracing footprints.”Holmes’ Observation of Watson“How are you?” he said cordially, gripping my hand with the strength for which I should have hardly had given him credit. “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.”“How on earth did you know that?” I asked in astonishment.“I know 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 the skin, for his wrists are fair. He has under-gone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural matter. 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 remarked that you came from Afghanistan and you were astonished.”“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 innermost 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 be to the uninitiated that until they learned the processes by which he had arrived that they might well consider him as a necromancer.”“From a drop of water,” said the writer, “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 mortal and mental aspects of the matter which present the greatest difficulties, let the inquirer 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 boots, by his trousers-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 repealed. That all united should fail to enlighten the competent inquirer in any case is most inconceivable.”Holmes’ Observation of Commissionaire:“I wonder what that fellow was 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 the message.“You mean the retired sergeant of the Marines,” said Sherlock Holmes.“Brag and bounce!” thought I to myself. “He knows that I cannot verify his guess.”5Here 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.”5“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-age man, too, on the face of him—all facts which
