Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 12
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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 12
Literature -- Collections
"Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing along
the line, "I should like just to remember the order of the houses
here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London.
There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the
Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian
Restaurant, and McFarlane's carriage-building depot. That carries us
right on to the other block. And now, doctor, we've done our work, so
it's time we had some play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then
off to violin-land, where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony,
and there are no red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums."
My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a very
capable performer, but a composer of no ordinary merit. All the
afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness,
gently waving his long thin fingers in time to the music, while his
gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those
of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted,
ready-handed criminal agent, as it was possible to conceive. In his
singular character the dual nature alternately asserted itself, and
his extreme exactness and astuteness represented, as I have often
thought, the reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which
occasionally predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him
from extreme languor to devouring energy; and as I knew well, he was
never so truly formidable as when for days on end he had been lounging
in his arm-chair, amid his improvisations and his black-letter
editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come
upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning power would rise to the
level of intuition, until those who were unacquainted with his methods
would look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not that of
other mortals. When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the music
at St. James's Hall, I felt that an evil time might be coming upon
those whom he had set himself to hunt down.
"You want to go home, no doubt, doctor," he remarked as we emerged.
"Yes, it would be as well."
"And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This
business at Coburg Square is serious."
"Why serious?"
"A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to
believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being Saturday
rather complicates matters. I shall want your help to-night."
"At what time?"
"Ten will be early enough."
"I shall be at Baker Street at ten."
"Very well. And I say, doctor, there may be some little danger, so
kindly put your army revolver in your pocket." He waved his hand,
turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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