Sherlock Holmes - 1st extract from chapter 3 of A Study in Scarlet
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a study in Scarlet Part one, Chapter three, the Lauriston Garden. Mr. I Come first. That was considerably startled by this fresh proof of the practical nature of my companions. Theories My respect for his powers of analysis increased wondrously. They're still remained Some lurking suspicion in my mind, however, that the whole thing was a prearranged episode intended to dazzle me, though what earthly object he could have been 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, lacklustre expression which showed mental abstraction. How in the world did you deduce that? I asked, Did you swat Piri? Petulant Lee? Why that that he was a retired sergeant of Marines? I have no time for trifles. And I'm said briskly. Then with a smile. Excuse my rudeness. He broke three 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 easy to know it than to explain why I knew it. If you are asked to prove that two and two made four, you might find some difficulty and that you are quite sure of the fact. Even across the street I could see a great blue anchor tattooed on the back of the fella's hand that smacked of the sea. You had a military carriage, however, of regulation side risks. We have the Marine. When 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 king, the steady, respectable middle aged man, two on the face of him, all thanks, which led me to believe that he had been a sergeant. Wonderful. I had ejaculated cover in place, said Holmes, though I thought from his expression that he was pleased at my evidence. Surprise and admiration, I said, just now that there were no criminals, it appears that I'm wrong. Look at this. He threw me over the note, which the commission air had brought. Why are you crying? 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 of three Lauriston Gardens off the Brixton Road. Our man on the beets are alight there, about two in the morning. And as the house was an empty one suspected that something was amiss You 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 E. Nick J. Rebekah, Cleveland, Ohio U. S A. That had bean, No robbery. Nor is there any evidence as to how the man met his death. The remarks 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 12, you will find me there. I've left everything in statue quo until I hear from you. If you are unable to come, I shall give you further details and would esteem it a great kindness if you would favour me with your opinion. Yours faithfully to bias. Grigson Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yard. Is my friend remarked he'll astronomer the pick of a bad lot. They're both quick and energetic. But conventional shocking. Lisa, They have their knives into one another too. Chablis is a pair of professional beauties. There will be some fun over this case if they have both put it on the scent. I was amazed at a calm way in which he rippled on. Surely there is not a moment to be lost. Shall I go on? Told you a camp. I'm not sure about whether I shall go. The most incurably lazy devil that ever stood in shoe leather. That is when the fit is on Re alright, Gun. Very spry enough times. Why? It is just a chance that you have been longing for my dear fellow. What does it matter to me? Supposing I unravel the whole matter? You may be sure that Gregson, the Strada anchor, will pocket all the credit that comes of being an unofficial personage. But he begs you to help him. Yes, he knows that I'm his superior and acknowledges it to me. But he would cut his tongue out before he would own it to any third person. No, ever. We may as well go in help Aleppo. I shall work it out on my own hook. I have a love that meant nothing else. Kill them. Be hustled on his overcoat and bustled about in a way that showed that an energetic fit that supersede the pathetic one. Get your hat, he said. You wish me to come? Yes, if you have nothing better to do. A minute later, we were both in a hansom driving furious Brixton road. It was a folkie cloudy morning and a dun coloured veil hung over the house stops looking like a reflection of the mood. Kalid streets beneath. My companion was in the best of spirits, prattled away about Ramona fiddles and the difference between a Stradivarius and then Amar. That's for myself. I was silent for the Dole weather and the melancholy business upon which were engaged pressed my spirit. You don't seem to give much thought to the matter in hand, first interrupting Holmes's musical disquisition. No data. It is a capital mistake to theorise before you have all the evidence, biases, the judgement. We'll have your data soon, remarked, pointing with my finger. This is the Brixton Road, and that is the house if I'm not very much mistaken. So stop drive her stop 100 yards or so from it. But he insisted upon our lighting. We finished our journey. All right, go number three Lauriston Gardens. One ill omen and military look. It was one of four which stood back some little way from the street to being occupied, and two empty the left. Her looked out with three tiers of vacant melancholy windows, which were blank and dreary. Saved that here and there. A till ebt card a developed like a cataract. Upon the blears pains, a small garden sprinkled over with a scattered eruption of sickly plants separated each of these houses from the street. It was traversed by a narrow pathway, yellowish in colour and consisting, apparently of a mixture of clay and gravel. The whole place was very sloppy from the rain, which had fallen through the night. The garden was founded by a 3 ft brick war with a fringe of wood rails upon the top, and against this wall was leaning a stalwart police constable, surrounded by a small knot of loafers who craned their necks and strained their eyes in the vain hope of catching some glimpse of the proceedings within. I had imagined that Sherlock Holmes would once have hurried into the house and plunged into a study of the mystery. Nothing appeared to be further from his intention with an air of nonchalance, which under the circumstances seemed to me to border upon affectation. They lounged up and down the pavement and gazed vacantly at the ground. The sky, the opposite house is on the line of railings. Having finished his scrutiny, he proceeded slowly down the path. Oh, Rather, down the fringe of grass, which flanked the path, keeping his eyes riveted upon the ground. Twice he stopped, and once I saw him smile and heard him utter an exclamation of satisfaction, there were many marks of footsteps upon the wet clay you soil. But since the police have been coming and going over, it was unable to see how my companion could hope to learn anything from it. Still, I'd had such extraordinary evidence of the quickness of his perceptive faculties that I had no doubt that he could see a great deal which was hidden from me. But the door of the house. We were met by a tall, white faced, flaxen haired man with a notebook in his hand, who rushed forward and run my companion's hand with a fusion. It is indeed kind of you to come and said, I have had everything left on touch except that, my friend answered, pointing at the pathway. Have a herd of buffaloes had passed along? That could not be a great image. No doubt, however, you had drawn your own conclusions. Gregson, before you permitted I've had so much to do inside the house, Detective said evasively. My colleague, Mr Estrada is here. I had relied upon him to look after this Holmes glance, took me and raised his eyebrows sardonically, with two such men as yourself in the stride upon the ground, that will not be much for a third party. To find it, he said, Gregson rubbed his hands in a self satisfied way. I think we have to know that can be done, he answered. That's a queer case, though, and I knew your taste for such things. You did not come here in a cab? Asks Sherlock Holmes. No, sir, nor the Stroud near So. Then let us go and look at the room with which, in consequent remark, he strode on into the house, followed by Gregson, whose features expressed his astonishment.