"But how do you know that it is hereditary?"
"Because my brother Mycroft possesses it in a larger degree than I do."
This was news to me indeed. If there were another man with such singularpowers in England, how was it that neither police nor public had heardof him? I put the question, with a hint that it was my companion'smodesty which made him acknowledge his brother as his superior. Holmeslaughed at my suggestion.
"My dear Watson," said he, "I cannot agree with those who rank modestyamong the virtues. To the logician all things should be seen exactly asthey are, and to underestimate one's self is as much a departure fromtruth as to exaggerate one's own powers. When I say, therefore, thatMycroft has better powers of observation than I, you may take it that Iam speaking the exact and literal truth."
"Is he your junior?"
"Seven years my senior."
"How comes it that he is unknown?"
"Oh, he is very well known in his own circle."
"Where, then?"
"Well, in the Diogenes Club, for example."
I had never heard of the institution, and my face must have proclaimedas much, for Sherlock Holmes pulled out his watch.
"The Diogenes Club is the queerest club in London, and Mycroft one ofthe queerest men. He's always there from quarter to five to twenty toeight. It's six now, so if you care for a stroll this beautiful eveningI shall be very happy to introduce you to two curiosities."
Five minutes later we were in the street, walking towards Regent'sCircus.
"You wonder," said my companion, "why it is that Mycroft does not usehis powers for detective work. He is incapable of it."
"But I thought you said--"
"I said that he was my superior in observation and deduction. If theart of the detective began and ended in reasoning from an arm-chair, mybrother would be the greatest criminal agent that ever lived. But he hasno ambition and no energy. He will not even go out of his way to verifyhis own solutions, and would rather be considered wrong than take thetrouble to prove himself right. Again and again I have taken a problemto him, and have received an explanation which has afterwards proved tobe the correct one. And yet he was absolutely incapable of working outthe practical points which must be gone into before a case could be laidbefore a judge or jury."
"It is not his profession, then?"
"By no means. What is to me a means of livelihood is to him the meresthobby of a dilettante. He has an extraordinary faculty for figures, andaudits the books in some of the government departments. Mycroft lodgesin Pall Mall, and he walks round the corner into Whitehall every morningand back every evening. From year's end to year's end he takes no otherexercise, and is seen nowhere else, except only in the Diogenes Club,which is just opposite his rooms."
"I cannot recall the name."
"Very likely not. There are many men in London, you know, who, some fromshyness, some from misanthropy, have no wish for the company of theirfellows. Yet they are not averse to comfortable chairs and the latestperiodicals. It is for the convenience of these that the Diogenes Clubwas started, and it now contains the most unsociable and unclubable menin town. No member is permitted to take the least notice of anyother one. Save in the Stranger's Room, no talking is, under anycircumstances, allowed, and three offences, if brought to the notice ofthe committee, render the talker liable to expulsion. My brother was oneof the founders, and I have myself found it a very soothing atmosphere."
We had reached Pall Mall as we talked, and were walking down it from theSt. James's end. Sherlock Holmes stopped at a door some little distancefrom the Carlton, and, cautioning me not to speak, he led the way intothe hall. Through the glass paneling I caught a glimpse of a large andluxurious room, in which a considerable number of men were sitting aboutand reading papers, each in his own little nook. Holmes showed me into asmall chamber which looked out into Pall Mall, and then, leaving me fora minute, he came back with a companion whom I knew could only be hisbrother.
Mycroft Holmes was a much larger and stouter man than Sherlock. His bodywas absolutely corpulent, but his face, though massive, had preservedsomething of the sharpness of expression which was so remarkable in thatof his brother. His eyes, which were of a peculiarly light, watery gray,seemed to always retain that far-away, introspective look which I hadonly observed in Sherlock's when he was exerting his full powers.
"I am glad to meet you, sir," said he, putting out a broad, fat handlike the flipper of a seal. "I hear of Sherlock everywhere since youbecame his chronicler. By the way, Sherlock, I expected to see you roundlast week, to consult me over that Manor House case. I thought you mightbe a little out of your depth."
"No, I solved it," said my friend, smiling.
"It was Adams, of course."
"Yes, it was Adams."
"I was sure of it from the first." The two sat down together in thebow-window of the club. "To any one who wishes to study mankind this isthe spot," said Mycroft. "Look at the magnificent types! Look at thesetwo men who are coming towards us, for example."
"The billiard-marker and the other?"
"Precisely. What do you make of the other?"
The two men had stopped opposite the window. Some chalk marks over thewaistcoat pocket were the only signs of billiards which I could seein one of them. The other was a very small, dark fellow, with his hatpushed back and several packages under his arm.