The return of Sherlock Holmes (completed)

The Return Of Sherlock Holmes (part 2)

(The Return of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle- part 2)

But he had not that supreme gift of the artist,
the knowledge of when to stop. He wished to improve that which
was already perfect--to draw the rope tighter yet round the neck
of his unfortunate victim--and so he ruined all. Let us descend,
Lestrade. There are just one or two questions that I would ask him."

The malignant creature was seated in his own parlour, with a
policeman upon each side of him.

"It was a joke, my good sir--a practical joke, nothing more," he
whined incessantly. "I assure you, sir, that I simply concealed
myself in order to see the effect of my disappearance, and I am
sure that you would not be so unjust as to imagine that I would
have allowed any harm to befall poor young Mr. McFarlane."

"That's for a jury to decide," said Lestrade. "Anyhow, we shall
have you on a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder."

"And you'll probably find that your creditors will impound the
banking account of Mr. Cornelius," said Holmes.

The little man started, and turned his malignant eyes upon my friend.

"I have to thank you for a good deal," said he. "Perhaps I'll
pay my debt some day."

Holmes smiled indulgently.

"I fancy that, for some few years, you will find your time very
fully occupied," said he. "By the way, what was it you put into
the wood-pile besides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits,
or what? You won't tell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well,
well, I daresay that a couple of rabbits would account both for
the blood and for the charred ashes. If ever you write an
account, Watson, you can make rabbits serve your turn."

THE ADVENTURE OF THE DANCING MEN

Holmes had been seated for some hours in silence with his long,
thin back curved over a chemical vessel in which he was brewing
a particularly malodorous product. His head was sunk upon his
breast, and he looked from my point of view like a strange, lank
bird, with dull gray plumage and a black top-knot.

"So, Watson," said he, suddenly, "you do not propose to invest
in South African securities?"

I gave a start of astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmes's
curious faculties, this sudden intrusion into my most intimate
thoughts was utterly inexplicable.

"How on earth do you know that?" I asked.

He wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube in
his hand, and a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.

"Now, Watson, confess yourself utterly taken aback," said he.

"I am."

"I ought to make you sign a paper to that effect."

"Why?"

"Because in five minutes you will say that it is all so
absurdly simple."

"I am sure that I shall say nothing of the kind."

"You see, my dear Watson"--he propped his test-tube in the rack,
and began to lecture with the air of a professor addressing his
class--"it is not really difficult to construct a series of
inferences, each dependent upon its predecessor and each simple
in itself. If, after doing so, one simply knocks out all the
central inferences and presents one's audience with the
starting-point and the conclusion, one may produce a startling,
though possibly a meretricious, effect. Now, it was not really
difficult, by an inspection of the groove between your left
forefinger and thumb, to feel sure that you did NOT propose to
invest your small capital in the gold fields."