“Mydearfellow,”saidSherlockHolmesaswesatoneithersideofthefireinhislodgingsatBakerStreet,“lifeisinfinitelystrangerthananythingwhichthemindofmancouldinvent.Wewouldnotdaretoconceivethethingswhicharereallymerecommonplacesofexistence.Ifwecouldflyoutofthatwindowhandinhand,hoveroverthisgreatcity,gentlyremovetheroofs,andpeepinatthequeerthingswhicharegoingon,thestrangecoincidences,theplannings,thecross-purposes,thewonderfulchainsofevents,workingthroughgenerations,andleadingtothemostoutréresults,itwouldmakeallfictionwithitsconventionalitiesandforeseenconclusionsmoststaleandunprofitable.”
“AndyetIamnotconvincedofit,”Ianswered.“Thecaseswhichcometolightinthepapersare,asarule,baldenough,andvulgarenough.Wehaveinourpolicereportsrealismpushedtoitsextremelimits,andyettheresultis,itmustbeconfessed,neitherfascinatingnorartistic.”
“Acertainselectionanddiscretionmustbeusedinproducingarealisticeffect,”remarkedHolmes.“Thisiswantinginthepolicereport,wheremorestressislaid,perhaps,upontheplatitudesofthemagistratethanuponthedetails,whichtoanobservercontainthevitalessenceofthewholematter.Dependuponit,thereisnothingsounnaturalasthecommonplace.”
Ismiledandshookmyhead.“Icanquiteunderstandyourthinkingso,”Isaid.“Ofcourse,inyourpositionofunofficialadviserandhelpertoeverybodywhoisabsolutelypuzzled,throughoutthreecontinents,youarebroughtincontactwithallthatisstrangeandbizarre.Buthere”—Ipickedupthemorningpaperfromtheground—“letusputittoapracticaltest.HereisthefirstheadinguponwhichIcome.‘Ahusband’scrueltytohiswife.’Thereishalfacolumnofprint,butIknowwithoutreadingitthatitisallperfectlyfamiliartome.Thereis,ofcourse,theotherwoman,thedrink,thepush,theblow,thebruise,thesympatheticsisterorlandlady.Thecrudestofwriterscouldinventnothingmorecrude.”
“Indeed,yourexampleisanunfortunateoneforyourargument,”saidHolmes,takingthepaperandglancinghiseyedownit.“ThisistheDundasseparationcase,and,asithappens,Iwasengagedinclearingupsomesmallpointsinconnectionwithit.Thehusbandwasateetotaler,therewasnootherwoman,andtheconductcomplainedofwasthathehaddriftedintothehabitofwindingupeverymealbytakingouthisfalseteethandhurlingthemathiswife,which,youwillallow,isnotanactionlikelytooccurtotheimaginationoftheaveragestory-teller.Takeapinchofsnuff,Doctor,andacknowledgethatIhavescoredoveryouinyourexample.”
Heheldouthissnuffboxofoldgold,withagreatamethystinthecentreofthelid.ItssplendourwasinsuchcontrasttohishomelywaysandsimplelifethatIcouldnothelpcommentinguponit.
“Ah,”saidhe,“IforgotthatIhadnotseenyouforsomeweeks.ItisalittlesouvenirfromtheKingofBohemiainreturnformyassistanceinthecaseoftheIreneAdlerpapers.”
“Andthering?”Iasked,glancingataremarkablebrilliantwhichsparkleduponhisfinger.
“ItwasfromthereigningfamilyofHolland,thoughthematterinwhichIservedthemwasofsuchdelicacythatIcannotconfideiteventoyou,whohavebeengoodenoughtochronicleoneortwoofmylittleproblems.”
“Andhaveyouanyonhandjustnow?”Iaskedwithinterest.
“Sometenortwelve,butnonewhichpresentanyfeatureofinterest.Theyareimportant,youunderstand,withoutbeinginteresting.Indeed,Ihavefoundthatitisusuallyinunimportantmattersthatthereisafieldfortheobservation,andforthequickanal