VII.THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE

IhadcalleduponmyfriendSherlockHolmesuponthesecondmorningafterChristmas,withtheintentionofwishinghimthecomplimentsoftheseason.Hewaslounginguponthesofainapurpledressing-gown,apipe-rackwithinhisreachupontheright,andapileofcrumpledmorningpapers,evidentlynewlystudied,nearathand.Besidethecouchwasawoodenchair,andontheangleofthebackhungaveryseedyanddisreputablehard-felthat,muchtheworseforwear,andcrackedinseveralplaces.Alensandaforcepslyingupontheseatofthechairsuggestedthatthehathadbeensuspendedinthismannerforthepurposeofexamination. “Youareengaged,”saidI“perhapsIinterruptyou.” “Notatall.IamgladtohaveafriendwithwhomIcandiscussmyresults.Thematterisaperfectlytrivialone”—hejerkedhisthumbinthedirectionoftheoldhat—“buttherearepointsinconnectionwithitwhicharenotentirelydevoidofinterestandevenofinstruction.” Iseatedmyselfinhisarmchairandwarmedmyhandsbeforehiscracklingfire,forasharpfrosthadsetin,andthewindowswerethickwiththeicecrystals.“Isuppose,”Iremarked,“that,homelyasitlooks,thisthinghassomedeadlystorylinkedontoit—thatitisthecluewhichwillguideyouinthesolutionofsomemysteryandthepunishmentofsomecrime.” “No,no.Nocrime,”saidSherlockHolmes,laughing.“Onlyoneofthosewhimsicallittleincidentswhichwillhappenwhenyouhavefourmillionhumanbeingsalljostlingeachotherwithinthespaceofafewsquaremiles.Amidtheactionandreactionofsodenseaswarmofhumanity,everypossiblecombinationofeventsmaybeexpectedtotakeplace,andmanyalittleproblemwillbepresentedwhichmaybestrikingandbizarrewithoutbeingcriminal.Wehavealreadyhadexperienceofsuch.” “Somuchso,”Iremarked,“thatofthelastsixcaseswhichIhaveaddedtomynotes,threehavebeenentirelyfreeofanylegalcrime.” “Precisely.YoualludetomyattempttorecovertheIreneAdlerpapers,tothesingularcaseofMissMarySutherland,andtotheadventureofthemanwiththetwistedlip.Well,Ihavenodoubtthatthissmallmatterwillfallintothesameinnocentcategory.YouknowPeterson,thecommissionaire?” “Yes.” “Itistohimthatthistrophybelongs.” “Itishishat.” “No,no,hefoundit.Itsownerisunknown.Ibegthatyouwilllookuponitnotasabatteredbillycockbutasanintellectualproblem.And,first,astohowitcamehere.ItarriveduponChristmasmorning,incompanywithagoodfatgoose,whichis,Ihavenodoubt,roastingatthismomentinfrontofPeterson’sfire.Thefactsarethese:aboutfouro’clockonChristmasmorning,Peterson,who,asyouknow,isaveryhonestfellow,wasreturningfromsomesmalljollificationandwasmakinghiswayhomewarddownTottenhamCourtRoad.Infrontofhimhesaw,inthegaslight,atallishman,walkingwithaslightstagger,andcarryingawhitegooseslungoverhisshoulder.AshereachedthecornerofGoodgeStreet,arowbrokeoutbetweenthisstrangerandalittleknotofroughs.Oneofthelatterknockedofftheman’shat,onwhichheraisedhissticktodefendhimselfand,swingingitoverhishead,smashedtheshopwindowbehindhim.Petersonhadrushedforwardtoprotectthestrangerfromhisassailantsbuttheman,shockedathavingbrokenthewindow,andseeinganofficial-lookingpersoninuniformrushingtowardshim,droppedhisgoose,tooktohisheels,andvanishedamidthelabyrinthofsmallstreetswhichlieatthebackofTottenhamCourtRoad.TheroughshadalsofledattheappearanceofPeterson,sothathewasleftinpossessionofthefieldofbattle,andalsoofthespoilsofvictoryintheshapeofthisbatteredhatandamostunimpeachableChristmasgoose.” “Whichsurelyherestoredtotheirowner?” “Mydearfellow,thereliestheproblem.Itistruethat‘ForMrs.HenryBaker’wasprinteduponasmallcardwhichwastiedtothebird’sleftleg,anditisalsotruethattheinitials‘H.B.’arelegibleupontheliningofthishat,butastherearesomethousandsofBakers,andsomehundredsofHenryBakersinthiscityofours,itisnoteasytorestorelostpropertytoanyoneofthem.” “What,then,didPetersondo?” “HebroughtroundbothhatandgoosetomeonChristmasmorning,knowingthateventhesmallestproblemsareofinteresttome.Thegooseweretaineduntilthismorning,whenthereweresignsthat,inspiteoftheslightfrost,itwouldbewellthatitshouldbeeatenwithoutunnecessarydelay.Itsfinderhascarrieditoff,therefore,tofulfiltheultimatedestinyofagoose,whileIcontinuetoretainthehatoftheunknowngentlemanwholosthisChristmasdinner.” “Didhenotadvertise?” “No.” “Then,whatcluecouldyouhaveastohisidentity?” “Onlyasmuchaswecandeduce.” “Fromhishat?” “Precisely.” “Butyouarejoking.Whatcanyougatherfromthisoldbatteredfelt?” “Hereismylens.Youknowmymethods.Whatcanyougatheryourselfastotheindividualityofthemanwhohaswornthisarticle?” Itookthetatteredobjectinmyhandsandturneditoverratherruefully.Itwasaveryordinaryblackhatoftheusualroundshape,hardandmuchtheworseforwear.Thelininghadbeenofredsilk,butwasagooddealdiscoloured.Therewasnomaker’snamebut,asHolmeshadremarked,theinitials“H.B.”werescrawledupononeside.Itwaspiercedinthebrimforahat-securer,buttheelasticwasmissing.Fortherest,itwascracked,exceedinglydusty,andspottedinseveralplaces,althoughthereseemedtohavebeensomeattempttohidethediscolouredpatchesbysmearingthemwithink. “Icanseenothing,”saidI,handingitbacktomyfriend. “Onthecontrary,Watson,youcanseeeverything.Youfail,however,toreasonfromwhatyousee.Youaretootimidindrawingyourinferences.” “Then,praytellmewhatitisthatyoucaninferfromthishat?” Hepickeditupandgazedatitinthepeculiarintrospectivefashionwhichwascharacteristicofhim.“Itisperhapslesssuggestivethanitmighthavebeen,”heremarked,“andyetthereareafewinferenceswhichareverydistinct,andafewotherswhichrepresentatleastastrongbalanceofprobability.Thatthemanwashighlyintellectualisofcourseobviousuponthefaceofit,andalsothathewasfairlywell-to-dowithinthelastthreeyears,althoughhehasnowfallenuponevildays.Hehadforesight,buthaslessnowthanformerly,pointingtoamoralretrogression,which,whentakenwiththedeclineofhisfortunes,seemstoindicatesomeevilinfluence,probablydrink,atworkuponhim.Thismayaccountalsofortheobviousfactthathiswifehasceasedtolovehim.” “MydearHolmes!” “Hehas,however,retainedsomedegreeofself-respect,”hecontinued,disregardingmyremonstrance.“Heisamanwholeadsasedentarylife,goesoutlittle,isoutoftrainingentirely,ismiddle-aged,hasgrizzledhairwhichhehashadcutwithinthelastfewdays,andwhichheanointswithlime-cream.Thesearethemorepatentfactswhicharetobededucedfromhishat.Also,bytheway,thatitisextremelyimprobablethathehasgaslaidoninhishouse.” “Youarecertainlyjoking,Holmes.” “Notintheleast.Isitpossiblethatevennow,whenIgiveyoutheseresults,youareunabletoseehowtheyareattained?” “IhavenodoubtthatIamverystupid,butImustconfessthatIamunabletofollowyou.Forexample,howdidyoudeducethatthismanwasintellectual?” ForanswerHolmesclappedthehatuponhishead.Itcamerightovertheforeheadandsettleduponthebridgeofhisnose.“Itisaquestionofcubiccapacity,”saidhe“amanwithsolargeabrainmusthavesomethinginit.” “Thedeclineofhisfortunes,then?” “Thishatisthreeyearsold.Theseflatbrimscurledattheedgecameinthen.Itisahatoftheverybestquality.Lookatthebandofribbedsilkandtheexcellentlining.Ifthismancouldaffordtobuysoexpensiveahatthreeyearsago,andhashadnohatsince,thenhehasassuredlygonedownintheworld.” “Well,thatisclearenough,certainly.Buthowabouttheforesightandthemoralretrogression?” SherlockHolmeslaughed.“Hereistheforesight,”saidheputtinghisfingeruponthelittledis