ysisofcauseandeffectwhichgivesthecharmtoaninvestigation.Thelargercrimesareapttobethesimpler,forthebiggerthecrimethemoreobvious,asarule,isthemotive.Inthesecases,saveforoneratherintricatematterwhichhasbeenreferredtomefromMarseilles,thereisnothingwhichpresentsanyfeaturesofinterest.Itispossible,however,thatImayhavesomethingbetterbeforeverymanyminutesareover,forthisisoneofmyclients,orIammuchmistaken.”
Hehadrisenfromhischairandwasstandingbetweenthepartedblindsgazingdownintothedullneutral-tintedLondonstreet.Lookingoverhisshoulder,Isawthatonthepavementoppositetherestoodalargewomanwithaheavyfurboaroundherneck,andalargecurlingredfeatherinabroad-brimmedhatwhichwastiltedinacoquettishDuchessofDevonshirefashionoverherear.Fromunderthisgreatpanoplyshepeepedupinanervous,hesitatingfashionatourwindows,whileherbodyoscillatedbackwardandforward,andherfingersfidgetedwithherglovebuttons.Suddenly,withaplunge,asoftheswimmerwholeavesthebank,shehurriedacrosstheroad,andweheardthesharpclangofthebell.
“Ihaveseenthosesymptomsbefore,”saidHolmes,throwinghiscigaretteintothefire.“Oscillationuponthepavementalwaysmeansanaffairedec?ur.Shewouldlikeadvice,butisnotsurethatthematterisnottoodelicateforcommunication.Andyetevenherewemaydiscriminate.Whenawomanhasbeenseriouslywrongedbyamanshenolongeroscillates,andtheusualsymptomisabrokenbellwire.Herewemaytakeitthatthereisalovematter,butthatthemaidenisnotsomuchangryasperplexed,orgrieved.Buthereshecomesinpersontoresolveourdoubts.”
Ashespoketherewasatapatthedoor,andtheboyinbuttonsenteredtoannounceMissMarySutherland,whiletheladyherselfloomedbehindhissmallblackfigurelikeafull-sailedmerchant-manbehindatinypilotboat.SherlockHolmeswelcomedherwiththeeasycourtesyforwhichhewasremarkable,and,havingclosedthedoorandbowedherintoanarmchair,helookedheroverintheminuteandyetabstractedfashionwhichwaspeculiartohim.
“Doyounotfind,”hesaid,“thatwithyourshortsightitisalittletryingtodosomuchtypewriting?”
“Ididatfirst,”sheanswered,“butnowIknowwherethelettersarewithoutlooking.”Then,suddenlyrealisingthefullpurportofhiswords,shegaveaviolentstartandlookedup,withfearandastonishmentuponherbroad,good-humouredface.“You’veheardaboutme,Mr.Holmes,”shecried,“elsehowcouldyouknowallthat?”
“Nevermind,”saidHolmes,laughing“itismybusinesstoknowthings.PerhapsIhavetrainedmyselftoseewhatothersoverlook.Ifnot,whyshouldyoucometoconsultme?”
“Icametoyou,sir,becauseIheardofyoufromMrs.Etherege,whosehusbandyoufoundsoeasywhenthepoliceandeveryonehadgivenhimupfordead.Oh,Mr.Holmes,Iwishyouwoulddoasmuchforme.I’mnotrich,butstillIhaveahundredayearinmyownright,besidesthelittlethatImakebythemachine,andIwouldgiveitalltoknowwhathasbecomeofMr.HosmerAngel.”
“Whydidyoucomeawaytoconsultmeinsuchahurry?”askedSherlockHolmes,withhisfinger-tipstogetherandhiseyestotheceiling.
AgainastartledlookcameoverthesomewhatvacuousfaceofMissMarySutherland.“Yes,Ididbangoutofthehouse,”shesaid,“foritmademeangrytoseetheeasywayinwhichMr.Windibank—thatis,myfather—tookitall.Hewouldnotgotothepolice,andhewouldnotgotoyou,andsoatlast,ashewoulddonothingandkeptonsayingthattherewasnoharmdone,itmadememad,andIjustonwithmythingsandcamerightawaytoy