DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
band by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of
the foot-paths it still lay as white as when it fell. The grey
pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously
slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual. Indeed,
from the direction of the Metropolitan Station no one was coming save
the single gentleman whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention.

He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a
massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed
in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat
brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actions were
in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress and features, for he
was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man
gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs. As he
ran he jerked his hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed
his face into the most extraordinary contortions.

"What on earth can be the matter with him?" I asked. "He is looking
up at the numbers of the houses."

"I believe that he is coming here," said Holmes, rubbing his hands.

"Here?"

"Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I
think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?" As he
spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at
our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging.

A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still
gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his
eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and pity.
For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and
plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme
limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat
his head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon
him and tore him away to the centre of the room. Sherlock Holmes
pushed him down into the easy-chair and, sitting beside him, patted
his hand and chatted with him in the easy, soothing tones which he
knew so well how to employ.

"You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?" said he. "You
are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have recovered
yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little
problem which you may submit to me."

The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting
against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his brow,
set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us.

"No doubt you think me mad?" said he.

"I see that you have had some great trouble," responded Holmes.

"God knows I have!--a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so
sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might have faced,
although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain.
Private affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming
together, and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my
very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land
may suffer unless some way be found out of this horrible affair."

"Pray compose yourself, sir," said Holmes, "and let me have a clear
account of who you are and what it is that has befallen you."

"My name," answered our visitor, "is probably familiar to your ears.
I am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson, of
Threadneedle Street."

The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior
partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City of
London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost
citizens of London to this most pitiable pass? We waited, all
curiosity, until with another effort he braced himself to tell his
story.

"I feel that time is of value," said he; "that is why I hastened here
when the police inspector suggested that I should secure your
co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried
from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is
why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little
exercise. I feel better now, and I will put the facts before you as
shortly and yet as clearly as I can.

"It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking
business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative
investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection and
the number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means of
laying out money is in the shape of loans, where the security is
unimpeachable. We have done a good deal in this direction during the
last few years, and there are many noble families to whom we have
advanced large sums upon the security of their pictures, libraries,
or plate.

"Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a card
was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I saw the
name, for it was that of none other than--well, perhaps even to you I
had better say no more than that it was a name which is a household
word all over the earth--one of the highest, noblest, most exalted
names in England. I was overwhelmed by the honour and attempted, when

band by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of

the foot-paths it still lay as white as when it fell. The grey

pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously

slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual. Indeed,

from the direction of the Metropolitan Station no one was coming save

the single gentleman whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention.

He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a

massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed

in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat

brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actions were

in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress and features, for he

was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man

gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs. As he

ran he jerked his hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed

his face into the most extraordinary contortions.

"What on earth can be the matter with him?" I asked. "He is looking

up at the numbers of the houses."

"I believe that he is coming here," said Holmes, rubbing his hands.

"Here?"

"Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I

think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?" As he

spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at

our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging.

A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still

gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his

eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and pity.

For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and

plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme

limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat

his head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon

him and tore him away to the centre of the room. Sherlock Holmes

pushed him down into the easy-chair and, sitting beside him, patted

his hand and chatted with him in the easy, soothing tones which he

knew so well how to employ.

"You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?" said he. "You

are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have recovered

yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little

problem which you may submit to me."

The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting

against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his brow,

set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us.

"No doubt you think me mad?" said he.

"I see that you have had some great trouble," responded Holmes.

"God knows I have!--a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so

sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might have faced,

although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain.

Private affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming

together, and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my

very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land

may suffer unless some way be found out of this horrible affair."

"Pray compose yourself, sir," said Holmes, "and let me have a clear

account of who you are and what it is that has befallen you."

"My name," answered our visitor, "is probably familiar to your ears.

I am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson, of

Threadneedle Street."

The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior

partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City of

London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost

citizens of London to this most pitiable pass? We waited, all

curiosity, until with another effort he braced himself to tell his

story.

"I feel that time is of value," said he; "that is why I hastened here

when the police inspector suggested that I should secure your

co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried

from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is

why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little

exercise. I feel better now, and I will put the facts before you as

shortly and yet as clearly as I can.

"It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking

business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative

investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection and

the number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means of

laying out money is in the shape of loans, where the security is

unimpeachable. We have done a good deal in this direction during the

last few years, and there are many noble families to whom we have

advanced large sums upon the security of their pictures, libraries,

or plate.

"Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a card

was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I saw the

name, for it was that of none other than--well, perhaps even to you I

had better say no more than that it was a name which is a household

word all over the earth--one of the highest, noblest, most exalted

names in England. I was overwhelmed by the honour and attempted, when