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`Good!'
said Holmes. `Excellent!'
`I
think also that the probability is in favour of his being a country
practitioner who does a great deal of his visiting on foot.'
`Why
so?'
`Because
this stick, though originally a very handsome one has been so knocked about
that I can hardly imagine a town practitioner carrying it. The thick-iron
ferrule is worn down, so it is evident that he has done a great amount of
walking with it.'
`Perfectly
sound!' said Holmes.
`And
then again, there is the ``friends of the C.C.H.'' I should guess that to be
the Something Hunt, the local hunt to whose members he has possibly given
some surgical assistance, and which has made him a small presentation in
return.'
`Really,
Watson, you excel yourself,' said Holmes, pushing back his chair and
lighting a cigarette. `I am bound to say that in all the accounts which you
have been so good as to give of my own small achievements you have
habitually underrated your own abilities. It may be that you are not
yourself luminous, but you are a conductor of light. Some people without
possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it. I confess, my
dear fellow, that I am very much in your debt.'
He
had never said as much before, and I must admit that his words gave me keen
pleasure, for I had often been piqued by his indifference to my admiration
and to the attempts which I had made to give publicity to his methods. I was
proud, too, to think that I had so far mastered his system as to apply it in
a way which earned his approval. He now took the stick from my hands and
examined it for a few minutes with his naked eyes. Then with an expression
of interest he laid down his cigarette, and carrying the cane to the window,
he looked over it again with a convex lens.
`Interesting,
though elementary,' said he as he returned to his favourite corner of the
settee. `There are certainly one or two indications upon the stick. It gives
us the basis for several deductions.'
`Has
anything escaped me?' I asked with some self-importance. `I trust that there
is nothing of consequence which I have overlooked?'
`I
am afraid, my dear Watson, that most of your conclusions were erroneous.
When
I said that you stimulated me I meant, to be frank, that in noting your
fallacies I was occasionally guided towards the truth. Not that you are
entirely wrong in this instance. The man is certainly a country
practitioner. And he walks a good deal.'
`Then
I was right.'
`To
that extent.'
`But
that was all.'
`No,
no, my dear Watson, not all - by no means all. I would suggest, for example,
that a presentation to a doctor is more likely to come from a hospital than
from a hunt, and that when the initials ``C.C.'' are placed before that
hospital the words ``Charing Cross'' very naturally suggest themselves.'
`You
may be right.'
`The
probability lies in that direction. And if we take this as a working
hypothesis we have a fresh basis from which to start our construction of
this unknown visitor.'
`Well,
then, supposing that ``C.C.H.'' does stand for ``Charing Cross Hospital,''
what further inferences may we draw?'
`Do
none suggest themselves? You know my methods. Apply them!'
`I
can only think of the obvious conclusion that the man has practised in town
before going to the country.'
`I
think that we might venture a little farther than this. Look at it in this
light. On what occasion would it be most probable that such a presentation
would be made? When would his friends unite to give him a pledge of their
good will? Obviously at the moment when Dr. Mortimer withdrew from the
service of the hospital in order to start in practice for himself. We know
there has been a presentation. We believe there has been a change from a
town hospital to a country practice. Is it, then, stretching our inference
too far to say that the presentation was on the occasion of the change?'
`It
certainly seems probable.'
`Now,
you will observe that he could not have been on the staff of the hospital,
since only a man well-established in a London practice could hold such a
position, and such a one would not drift into the country. What was he,
then? If he was in the hospital and yet not on the staff he could only have
been a house-surgeon or a house-physician - little more than a senior
student. And he left five years ago - the date is on the stick. So your
grave, middle-aged family practitioner vanishes into thin air, my dear
Watson, and there emerges a young fellow under thirty, amiable, unambitious,
absent-minded, and the possessor of a favourite dog, which I should describe
roughly as being larger than a terrier and smaller than a mastiff.'
I
laughed incredulously as Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his settee and blew
little wavering rings of smoke up to the ceiling.
`As
to the latter part, I have no means of checking you,' said I, `but at least
it is not difficult to find out a few particulars about the man's age and
professional career.' From my small medical shelf I took down the Medical
Directory and turned up the name. There were several Mortimers, but only one
who could be our visitor. I read his record aloud.
`Mortimer,
James, M.R.C.S., 1882, Grimpen, Dartmoor, Devon. House-surgeon, from 1882 to
1884, at Charing Cross Hospital. Winner of the Jackson prize for Comparative
Pathology, with essay entitled ``Is Disease a Reversion?'' Corresponding
member of the Swedish Pathological Society. Author of ``Some Freaks of
Atavism'' (Lancet 1882). ``Do We Progress?'' (Journal of Psychology, March,
1883). Medical Officer for the parishes of Grimpen, Thorsley, and High
Barrow.'
`No
mention of that local hunt, Watson,' said Holmes with a mischievous smile,
`but a country doctor, as you very astutely observed. I think that I am
fairly justified in my inferences. As to the adjectives, I said, if I
remember right, amiable, unambitious, and absent-minded. It is my experience
that it is only an amiable man in this world who receives testimonials, only
an unambitious one who abandons a London career for the country, and only an
absent-minded one who leaves his stick and not his visiting-card after
waiting an hour in your room.'
`And
the dog?'
`Has
been in the habit of carrying this stick behind his master. Being a heavy
stick the dog has held it tightly by the middle, and the marks of his teeth
are very plainly visible. The dog's jaw, as shown in the space between these
marks, is too broad in my opinion for a terrier and not broad enough for a
mastiff. It may have been - yes, by Jove, it is a curly-haired spaniel.'
He
had risen and paced the room as he spoke. Now he halted in the recess of the
window. There was such a ring of conviction in his voice that I glanced up
in surprise.
`My
dear fellow, how can you possibly be so sure of that?'
`For
the very simple reason that I see the dog himself on our very door-step, and
there is the ring of its owner. Don't move, I beg you, Watson. He is a
professional brother of yours, and your presence may be of assistance to me.
Now is the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, when you hear a step upon the
stair which is walking into your life, and you know not whether for good or
ill. What does Dr. James Mortimer, the man of science, ask of Sherlock
Holmes, the specialist in crime? Come in!'
The
appearance of our visitor was a surprise to me, since I had expected a
typical country practitioner. He was a very tall, thin man, with a long nose
like a beak, which jutted out between two keen, gray eyes, set closely
together and sparkling brightly from behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
He was clad in a professional but rather slovenly fashion, for his
frock-coat was dingy and his trousers frayed. Though young, his long back
was already bowed, and he walked with a forward thrust of his head and a
general air of peering benevolence. As he entered his eyes fell upon the
stick in Holmes's hand, and he ran towards it with an exclamation of joy. `I
am so very glad,' said he. `I was not sure whether I had left it here or in
the Shipping Office. I would not lose that stick for the world.'
`A
presentation, I see,' said Holmes.
`Yes,
sir.'
`From
Charing Cross Hospital?'
`From
one or two friends there on the occasion of my marriage.'
`Dear,
dear, that's bad!' said Holmes, shaking his head.
Dr.
Mortimer blinked through his glasses in mild astonishment.
`Why
was it bad?'
`Only
that you have disarranged our little deductions. Your marriage, you say?'
`Yes,
sir. I married, and so left the hospital, and with it all hopes of a
consulting practice. It was necessary to make a home of my own.'
`Come,
come, we are not so far wrong, after all,' said Holmes. `And now, Dr. James
Mortimer - '
`Mister,
sir, Mister - a humble M.R.C.S.'
`And
a man of precise mind, evidently.'
`A
dabbler in science, Mr. Holmes, a picker up of shells on the shores of the
great unknown ocean. I presume that it is Mr. Sherlock Holmes whom I am
addressing and not - '
`No,
this is my friend Dr. Watson.'
`Glad
to meet you, sir. I have heard your name mentioned in connection with that
of your friend. You interest me very much, Mr. Holmes. I had hardly expected
so dolichocephalic a skull or such well-marked supra-orbital development.
Would you have any objection to my running my finger along your parietal
fissure? A cast of your skull, sir, until the original is available, would
be an ornament to any anthropological museum. It is not my intention to be
fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull.'
Sherlock
Holmes waved our strange visitor into a chair. `You are an enthusiast in
your line of thought, I perceive, sir, as I am in mine,' said he. `I observe
from your forefinger that you make your own cigarettes. Have no hesitation
in lighting one.'
The
man drew out paper and tobacco and twirled the one up in the other with
surprising dexterity. He had long, quivering fingers as agile and restless
as the antennae of an insect.
Holmes
was silent, but his little darting glances showed me the interest which he
took in our curious companion.
`I
presume, sir,' said he at last, `that it was not merely for the purpose of
examining my skull that you have done me the honour to call here last night
and again to-day?'
`No,
sir, no; though I am happy to have had the opportunity of doing that as
well. I came to you, Mr. Holmes, because I recognized that I am myself an
unpractical man and because I am suddenly confronted with a most serious and
extraordinary problem. Recognizing, as I do, that you are the second highest
expert in Europe - '
`Indeed,
sir! May I inquire who has the honour to be the first?' asked Holmes with
some asperity.
`To
the man of precisely scientific mind the work of Monsieur Bertillon must
always appeal strongly.'
`Then
had you not better consult him?'
`I
said, sir, to the precisely scientific mind. But as a practical man of
affairs it is acknowledged that you stand alone. I trust, sir, that I have
not inadvertently - '
`Just
a little,' said Holmes. `I think, Dr. Mortimer, you would do wisely if
without more ado you would kindly tell me plainly what the exact nature of
the problem is in which you demand my assistance.'
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