III.A CASE OF IDENTITY

“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,andforthequickanalysisofcauseandeffectwhichgivesthecharmtoaninvestigation.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,andIjustonwithmythingsandcamerightawayto