sherlock holmes | Page 2

How do I know that you have been getting yourself very
wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?”
“My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have been
burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on
Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes
I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my
wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out.”
He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together.
“It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left
shoe, just where the relight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost paral-
lel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly
scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence,
you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you
had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to
your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with

ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
5
a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forenger, and a bulge on the right
side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull,
indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profes-
sion.” I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his process of
deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I remarked, “the thing always
appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though
at each successive instance of your reasoning I am bafed until you explain your
process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours.” “Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself down into
an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For
example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this
room.” “Frequently.”
“How often?”
“Well, some hundreds of times.”
“Then how many are there?”
“How many? I don't know.”
“Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my
point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and
observed. By-the-way, since you are interested in these little problems, and since
you are good enough to chronicle one or two of my triing experiences, you may
be interested in this.” He threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted note-paper which
had been lying open upon the table. “It came by the last post,” said he. “Read it
aloud.” The note was undated, and without either signature or address.
“There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock,” it said, “a gen-
tleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your
recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one
who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can
hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received.
Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear
a mask.” “This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it means?”
“I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data.
Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.
But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?” I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written.
“The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked, endeavouring
to imitate my companion's processes. “Such paper could not be bought under half
a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff.”
“Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English paper at
all. Hold it up to the light.”

ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
6
I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a large “G” with
a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper. “What do you make of that?” asked Holmes.
“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.”
“Not at all. The `G' with the small `t' stands for 'Gesellschaft,' which is the
German for `Company.' It is a customary contraction like our `Co.' `P,' of course,
stands for 'Papier.' Now for the `Eg.' Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer.”
He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. “Eglow, Eglonitz—here we
are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking country—in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad.
`Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous
glass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha,