DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

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yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning
from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about
the thing."

"It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter," I
remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which
I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend's
singular character.

"No, it is not selfishness or conceit," said he, answering, as was
his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. "If I claim full justice
for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing--a thing beyond
myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the
logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have
degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of
tales."

It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast
on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A
thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and
the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the
heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth
and glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared
yet. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping
continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers
until at last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged
in no very sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings.

"At the same time," he remarked after a pause, during which he had
sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, "you can
hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases
which you have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair
proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The
small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the
singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected
with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble
bachelor, were all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But
in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the
trivial."

"The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to
have been novel and of interest."

"Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant
public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor
by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and
deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for
the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man,
has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little
practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering
lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from
boarding-schools. I think that I have touched bottom at last,
however. This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy.
Read it!" He tossed a crumpled letter across to me.

It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran
thus:

Dear Mr. Holmes:
I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not
accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I shall
call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you.
Yours faithfully,
Violet Hunter.

"Do you know the young lady?" I asked.

"Not I."

"It is half-past ten now."

"Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring."

"It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember
that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere
whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so
in this case, also."

"Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for
here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question."

As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She
was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled
like a plover's egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had
her own way to make in the world.

"You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," said she, as my
companion rose to greet her, "but I have had a very strange
experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from
whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind
enough to tell me what I should do."

"Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that
I can to serve you."

I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and
speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching
fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his
finger-tips together, to listen to her story.

yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning

from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about

the thing."

"It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter," I

remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which

I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend's

singular character.

"No, it is not selfishness or conceit," said he, answering, as was

his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. "If I claim full justice

for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing--a thing beyond

myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the

logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have

degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of

tales."

It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast

on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A

thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and

the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the

heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth

and glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared

yet. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping

continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers

until at last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged

in no very sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings.

"At the same time," he remarked after a pause, during which he had

sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, "you can

hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases

which you have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair

proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The

small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the

singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected

with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble

bachelor, were all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But

in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the

trivial."

"The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to

have been novel and of interest."

"Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant

public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor

by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and

deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for

the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man,

has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little

practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering

lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from

boarding-schools. I think that I have touched bottom at last,

however. This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy.

Read it!" He tossed a crumpled letter across to me.

It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran

thus:

Dear Mr. Holmes:

I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not

accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I shall

call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you.

Yours faithfully,

Violet Hunter.

"Do you know the young lady?" I asked.

"Not I."

"It is half-past ten now."

"Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring."

"It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember

that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere

whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so

in this case, also."

"Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for

here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question."

As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She

was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled

like a plover's egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had

her own way to make in the world.

"You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," said she, as my

companion rose to greet her, "but I have had a very strange

experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from

whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind

enough to tell me what I should do."

"Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that

I can to serve you."

I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and

speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching

fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his

finger-tips together, to listen to her story.