III.A CASE OF IDENTITY

pentoodeep.Itmusthavebeenthismorning,orthemarkwouldnotremainclearuponthefinger.Allthisisamusing,thoughratherelementary,butImustgobacktobusiness,Watson.WouldyoumindreadingmetheadvertiseddescriptionofMr.HosmerAngel?” Iheldthelittleprintedsliptothelight.“Missing,”itsaid,“onthemorningofthefourteenth,agentlemannamedHosmerAngel.Aboutfiveft.sevenin.inheightstronglybuilt,sallowcomplexion,blackhair,alittlebaldinthecentre,bushy,blackside-whiskersandmoustachetintedglasses,slightinfirmityofspeech.Wasdressed,whenlastseen,inblackfrock-coatfacedwithsilk,blackwaistcoat,goldAlbertchain,andgreyHarristweedtrousers,withbrowngaitersoverelastic-sidedboots.KnowntohavebeenemployedinanofficeinLeadenhallStreet.Anybodybringing,”&c,&c. “Thatwilldo,”saidHolmes.“Astotheletters,”hecontinued,glancingoverthem,“theyareverycommonplace.AbsolutelynoclueinthemtoMr.Angel,savethathequotesBalzaconce.Thereisoneremarkablepoint,however,whichwillnodoubtstrikeyou.” “Theyaretypewritten,”Iremarked. “Notonlythat,butthesignatureistypewritten.Lookattheneatlittle‘HosmerAngel’atthebottom.Thereisadate,yousee,butnosuperscriptionexceptLeadenhallStreet,whichisrathervague.Thepointaboutthesignatureisverysuggestive—infact,wemaycallitconclusive.” “Ofwhat?” “Mydearfellow,isitpossibleyoudonotseehowstronglyitbearsuponthecase?” “IcannotsaythatIdounlessitwerethathewishedtobeabletodenyhissignatureifanactionforbreachofpromisewereinstituted.” “No,thatwasnotthepoint.However,Ishallwritetwoletters,whichshouldsettlethematter.OneistoafirmintheCity,theotheristotheyounglady’sstepfather,Mr.Windibank,askinghimwhetherhecouldmeetushereatsixo’clockto-morrowevening.Itisjustaswellthatweshoulddobusinesswiththemalerelatives.Andnow,Doctor,wecandonothinguntiltheanswerstothoseletterscome,sowemayputourlittleproblemupontheshelffortheinterim.” Ihadhadsomanyreasonstobelieveinmyfriend’ssubtlepowersofreasoningandextraordinaryenergyinactionthatIfeltthathemusthavesomesolidgroundsfortheassuredandeasydemeanourwithwhichhetreatedthesingularmysterywhichhehadbeencalledupontofathom.OnceonlyhadIknownhimtofail,inthecaseoftheKingofBohemiaandoftheIreneAdlerphotographbutwhenIlookedbacktotheweirdbusinessoftheSignofFour,andtheextraordinarycircumstancesconnectedwiththeStudyinScarlet,Ifeltthatitwouldbeastrangetangleindeedwhichhecouldnotunravel. Ilefthimthen,stillpuffingathisblackclaypipe,withtheconvictionthatwhenIcameagainonthenexteveningIwouldfindthatheheldinhishandsalltheclueswhichwouldleaduptotheidentityofthedisappearingbridegroomofMissMarySutherland. Aprofessionalcaseofgreatgravitywasengagingmyownattentionatthetime,andthewholeofnextdayIwasbusyatthebedsideofthesufferer.Itwasnotuntilcloseuponsixo’clockthatIfoundmyselffreeandwasabletospringintoahansomanddrivetoBakerStreet,halfafraidthatImightbetoolatetoassistatthedénouementofthelittlemystery.IfoundSherlockHolmesalone,however,halfasleep,withhislong,thinformcurledupintherecessesofhisarmchair.Aformidablearrayofbottlesandtest-tubes,withthepungentcleanlysmellofhydrochloricacid,toldmethathehadspenthisdayinthechemicalworkwhichwassodeartohim. “Well,haveyousolvedit?”IaskedasIentered. “Yes.Itwasthebisulphateofbaryta.” “No,no,themystery!”Icried. “Oh,that!IthoughtofthesaltthatIhavebeenworkingupon.Therewasneveranymysteryinthematter,though,asIsaidyesterday,someofthedetailsareofinterest.Theonlydrawbackisthatthereisnolaw,Ifear,thatcantouchthescoundrel.” “Whowashe,then,andwhatwashisobjectindesertingMissSutherland?” Thequestionwashardlyoutofmymouth,andHolmeshadnotyetopenedhislipstoreply,whenweheardaheavyfootfallinthepassageandatapatthedoor. “Thisisthegirl’sstepfather,Mr.JamesWindibank,”saidHolmes.“Hehaswrittentometosaythathewouldbehereatsix.Comein!” Themanwhoenteredwasasturdy,middle-sizedfellow,somethirtyyearsofage,clean-shaven,andsallow-skinned,withabland,insinuatingmanner,andapairofwonderfullysharpandpenetratinggreyeyes.Heshotaquestioningglanceateachofus,placedhisshinytop-hatuponthesideboard,andwithaslightbowsidleddownintothenearestchair. “Good-evening,Mr.JamesWindibank,”saidHolmes.“Ithinkthatthistypewrittenletterisfromyou,inwhichyoumadeanappointmentwithmeforsixo’clock?” “Yes,sir.IamafraidthatIamalittlelate,butIamnotquitemyownmaster,youknow.IamsorrythatMissSutherlandhastroubledyouaboutthislittlematter,forIthinkitisfarbetternottowashlinenofthesortinpublic.Itwasquiteagainstmywishesthatshecame,butsheisaveryexcitable,impulsivegirl,asyoumayhavenoticed,andsheisnoteasilycontrolledwhenshehasmadeuphermindonapoint.Ofcourse,Ididnotmindyousomuch,asyouarenotconnectedwiththeofficialpolice,butitisnotpleasanttohaveafamilymisfortunelikethisnoisedabroad.Besides,itisauselessexpense,forhowcouldyoupossiblyfindthisHosmerAngel?” “Onthecontrary,”saidHolmesquietly“IhaveeveryreasontobelievethatIwillsucceedindiscoveringMr.HosmerAngel.” Mr.Windibankgaveaviolentstartanddroppedhisgloves.“Iamdelightedtohearit,”hesaid. “Itisacuriousthing,”remarkedHolmes,“thatatypewriterhasreallyquiteasmuchindividualityasaman’shandwriting.Unlesstheyarequitenew,notwoofthemwriteexactlyalike.Somelettersgetmorewornthanothers,andsomewearonlyononeside.Now,youremarkinthisnoteofyours,Mr.Windibank,thatineverycasethereissomelittleslurringoverofthe‘e,’andaslightdefectinthetailofthe‘r.’Therearefourteenothercharacteristics,butthosearethemoreobvious.” “Wedoallourcorrespondencewiththismachineattheoffice,andnodoubtitisalittleworn,”ourvisitoranswered,glancingkeenlyatHolmeswithhisbrightlittleeyes. “AndnowIwillshowyouwhatisreallyaveryinterestingstudy,Mr.Windibank,”Holmescontinued.“Ithinkofwritinganotherlittlemonographsomeofthesedaysonthetypewriteranditsrelationtocrime.ItisasubjecttowhichIhavedevotedsomelittleattention.Ihaveherefourletterswhichpurporttocomefromthemissingman.Theyarealltypewritten.Ineachcase,notonlyarethe‘e’s’slurredandthe‘r’s’tailless,butyouwillobserve,ifyoucaretousemymagnifyinglens,thatthefourteenothercharacteristicstowhichIhavealludedarethereaswell.” Mr.Windibanksprangoutofhischairandpickeduphishat.“Icannotwastetimeoverthissortoffantastictalk,Mr.Holmes,”hesaid.“Ifyoucancatchtheman,catchhim,andletmeknowwhenyouhavedoneit.” “Certainly,”saidHolmes,steppingoverandturningthekeyinthedoor.“Iletyouknow,then,thatIhavecaughthim!” “What!where?”shoutedMr.Windibank,turningwhitetohislipsandglanc