Read The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Online

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chances being in favour of the latter." 

"And how in the world did you find them?" 

"It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in his hands 
the value of which he did not himself know. The initials were, of course, of the 
highest importance, but more valuable still was it to know that within a week he 
had settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels." 

"How did you deduce the select?" 

"By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass of 
sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels. There are not many in London 
which charge at that rate. In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Av- 
enue, I learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an American 
gentleman, had left only the day before, and on looking over the entries against 
him, I came upon the very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill. His let- 
ters were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being 
fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give them some 
paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be better in every way that 
they should make their position a little clearer both to the general public and to 
Lord St. Simon in particular. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, 
I made him keep the appointment." 

"But with no very good result," I remarked. "His conduct was certainly not 
very gracious." 

"Ah, Watson," said Holmes, smiling, "perhaps you would not be very gracious 
either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you found yourself deprived 
in an instant of wife and of fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very 
mercifully and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same 
position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have 
still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings." 



Adventure XI 



The Adventure Of The Beryl 
Coronet 



OLMES," said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down 
the street, "here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that 
his relatives should allow him to come out alone." 

My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands 
in the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It was a bright, 
crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still lay deep upon the 
ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Down the centre of Baker Street it 
had been ploughed into a brown crumbly 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, puff- 
ing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at our bell until the whole house 


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