DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
"My dear Holmes!"

"He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect," he
continued, disregarding my remonstrance. "He is a man who leads a
sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is
middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last
few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more
patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way,
that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his
house."

"You are certainly joking, Holmes."

"Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you
these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?"

"I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am
unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man
was intellectual?"

For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over
the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. "It is a
question of cubic capacity," said he; "a man with so large a brain
must have something in it."

"The decline of his fortunes, then?"

"This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge
came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band
of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to
buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since,
then he has assuredly gone down in the world."

"Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight
and the moral retrogression?"

Sherlock Holmes laughed. "Here is the foresight," said he putting his
finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. "They are
never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a
certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take
this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken
the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he
has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a
weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal
some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is
a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect."

"Your reasoning is certainly plausible."

"The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is
grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream,
are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of
the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut
by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and
there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe,
is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust
of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the
time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive
that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be
in the best of training."

"But his wife--you said that she had ceased to love him."

"This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear
Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when
your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you
also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection."

"But he might be a bachelor."

"Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife.
Remember the card upon the bird's leg."

"You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce
that the gas is not laid on in his house?"

"One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see
no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the
individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning
tallow--walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and
a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains
from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?"

"Well, it is very ingenious," said I, laughing; "but since, as you
said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done
save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of
energy."

Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew
open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment
with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with
astonishment.

"The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!" he gasped.

"Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off
through the kitchen window?" Holmes twisted himself round upon the
sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face.

"See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!" He held out his

"My dear Holmes!"

"He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect," he

continued, disregarding my remonstrance. "He is a man who leads a

sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is

middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last

few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more

patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way,

that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his

house."

"You are certainly joking, Holmes."

"Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you

these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?"

"I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am

unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man

was intellectual?"

For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over

the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. "It is a

question of cubic capacity," said he; "a man with so large a brain

must have something in it."

"The decline of his fortunes, then?"

"This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge

came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band

of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to

buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since,

then he has assuredly gone down in the world."

"Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight

and the moral retrogression?"

Sherlock Holmes laughed. "Here is the foresight," said he putting his

finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. "They are

never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a

certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take

this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken

the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he

has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a

weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal

some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is

a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect."

"Your reasoning is certainly plausible."

"The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is

grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream,

are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of

the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut

by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and

there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe,

is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust

of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the

time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive

that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be

in the best of training."

"But his wife--you said that she had ceased to love him."

"This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear

Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when

your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you

also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection."

"But he might be a bachelor."

"Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife.

Remember the card upon the bird's leg."

"You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce

that the gas is not laid on in his house?"

"One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see

no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the

individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning

tallow--walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and

a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains

from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?"

"Well, it is very ingenious," said I, laughing; "but since, as you

said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done

save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of

energy."

Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew

open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment

with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with

astonishment.

"The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!" he gasped.

"Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off

through the kitchen window?" Holmes twisted himself round upon the

sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face.

"See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!" He held out his