"An old soldier, I perceive," said Sherlock.
"And very recently discharged," remarked the brother.
"Served in India, I see."
"And a non-commissioned officer."
"Royal Artillery, I fancy," said Sherlock.
"And a widower."
"But with a child."
"Children, my dear boy, children."
"Come," said I, laughing, "this is a little too much."
"Surely," answered Holmes, "it is not hard to say that a man with thatbearing, expression of authority, and sunbaked skin, is a soldier, ismore than a private, and is not long from India."
"That he has not left the service long is shown by his still wearing hisammunition boots, as they are called," observed Mycroft.
"He had not the cavalry stride, yet he wore his hat on one side, asis shown by the lighter skin of that side of his brow. His weight isagainst his being a sapper. He is in the artillery."
"Then, of course, his complete mourning shows
that he has lost some onevery dear. The fact that he is doing his own shopping looks as thoughit were his wife. He has been buying things for children, you perceive.There is a rattle, which shows that one of them is very young. The wifeprobably died in childbed. The fact that he has a picture-book under hisarm shows that there is another child to be thought of."
I began to understand what my friend meant when he said that his brotherpossessed even keener faculties that he did himself. He glanced acrossat me and smiled. Mycroft took snuff from a tortoise-shell box, andbrushed away the wandering grains from his coat front with a large, redsilk handkerchief.
"By the way, Sherlock," said he, "I have had something quite after yourown heart--a most singular problem--submitted to my judgment. I reallyhad not the energy to follow it up save in a very incomplete fashion,but it gave me a basis for some pleasing speculation. If you would careto hear the facts--"
"My dear Mycroft, I should be delighted."
The brother scribbled a note upon a leaf of his pocket-book, and,ringing the bell, he handed it to the waiter.
"I have asked Mr. Melas to step across," said he. "He lodges on thefloor above me, and I have some slight acquaintance with him, which ledhim to come to me in his perplexity. Mr. Melas is a Greek by extraction,as I understand, and he is a remarkable linguist. He earns his livingpartly as interpreter in the law courts and partly by acting as guide toany wealthy Orientals who may visit the Northumberland Avenue hotels. Ithink I will leave him to tell his very remarkable experience in his ownfashion."
A few minutes later we were joined by a short, stout man whose oliveface and coal-black hair proclaimed his Southern origin, though hisspeech was that of an educated Englishman. He shook hands eagerlywith Sherlock Holmes, and his dark eyes sparkled with pleasure when heunderstood that the specialist was anxious to hear his story.
"I do not believe that the police credit me--on my word, I do not," saidhe in a wailing voice. "Just because they have never heard of it before,they think that such a thing cannot be. But I know that I shall neverbe easy in my mind until I know what has become of my poor man with thesticking-plaster upon his face."
"I am all attention," said Sherlock Holmes.
"This is Wednesday evening," said Mr. Melas. "Well then, it was Mondaynight--only two days ago, you understand--that all this happened. I aman interpreter, as perhaps my neighbor there has told you. I interpretall languages--or nearly all--but as I am a Greek by birth and with aGrecian name, it is with that particular tongue that I am principallyassociated. For many years I have been the chief Greek interpreter inLondon, and my name is very well known in the hotels.
"It happens not unfrequently that I am sent for at strange hours byforeigners who get into difficulties, or by travelers who arrive lateand wish my services. I was not surprised, therefore, on Monday nightwhen a Mr. Latimer, a very fashionably dressed young man, came up to myrooms and asked me to accompany him in a cab which was waiting at thedoor. A Greek friend had come to see him upon business, he said, andas he could speak nothing but his own tongue, the services of aninterpreter were indispensable. He gave me to understand that his housewas some little distance off, in Kensington, and he seemed to be in agreat hurry, bustling me rapidly into the cab when we had descended tothe street.
"I say into the cab, but I soon became doubtful as to whether it was nota carriage in which I found myself. It was certainly more roomy thanthe ordinary four-wheeled disgrace to London, and the fittings, thoughfrayed, were of rich quality. Mr. Latimer seated himself opposite to meand we started off through Charing Cross and up the Shaftesbury Avenue.We had come out upon Oxford Street and I had ventured some remark as tothis being a roundabout way to Kensington, when my words were arrestedby the extraordinary conduct of my companion.
"He began by drawing a most formidable-looking bludgeon loaded with leadfrom his pocket, and switching it backward and forward several times,as if to test its weight and strength. Then he placed it without a wordupon the seat beside him. Having done this, he drew up the windows oneach side, and I found to my astonishment that they were covered withpaper so as to prevent my seeing through them.
"'I am sorry to cut off your view, Mr. Melas,' said he. 'The fact isthat I have no intention that you should see what the place is to whichwe are driving. It might possibly be inconvenient to me if you couldfind your way there again.'
"As you can imagine, I was utterly taken aback by such an address. Mycompanion was a powerful, broad-shouldered young fellow, and, apart fromthe weapon, I should not have had the slightest chance in a strugglewith him.
"'This is very extraordinary conduct, Mr. Latimer,' I stammered. 'Youmust be aware that what you are doing is quite illegal.'
"'It is somewhat of a liberty, no doubt,' said he, 'but we'll make itup to you. I must warn you, however, Mr. Melas, that if at any timeto-night you attempt to raise an alarm or do anything which is againstmy interests, you will find it a very serious thing. I beg you toremember that no one knows where you are, and that, whether you are inthis carriage or in my house, you are equally in my power.'