"Brag and bounce!" thought I to myself. "He knows that I cannot verifyhis guess."
The thought had hardly passed through my mind when the man whom we werewatching caught sight of the number on our door, and ran rapidly acrossthe roadway. We heard a loud knock, a deep voice below, and heavy stepsascending the stair.
"For Mr. Sherlock Holmes," he said, stepping into the room and handingmy friend the letter.
Here was an opportunity of taking the conceit out of him. He littlethought of this when he made that random shot. "May I ask, my lad," Isaid, in the blandest voice, "what your trade may be?"
"Commissionaire, sir," he said, gruffly. "Uniform away for repairs."
"And you were?" I asked, with a slightly malicious glance at mycompanion.
"A sergeant, sir, Royal Marine Light Infantry, sir. No answer? Right,sir."
He clicked his heels together, raised his hand in a salute, and wasgone.
CHAPTER III. THE LAURISTON GARDEN MYSTERY [6]
I CONFESS that I was considerably startled by this fresh proof of thepractical nature of my companion's theories. My respect for his powersof analysis increased wondrously. There still remained some lurkingsuspicion in my mind, however, that the whole thing was a pre-arrangedepisode, intended to dazzle me, though what earthly object he could havein taking me in was past my comprehension. When I looked at him hehad finished reading the note, and his eyes had assumed the vacant,lack-lustre expression which showed mental abstraction.
"How in the world did you deduce that?" I asked.
"Deduce what?" said he, petulantly.
"Why, that he was a retired sergeant of Marines."
"I have no time for trifles," he answered, brusquely; then with a smile,"Excuse my rudeness. You broke the thread of my thoughts; but perhapsit is as well. So you actually were not able to see that that man was asergeant of Marines?"
"No, indeed."
"It was easier to know it than to explain why I knew it. If youwere asked to prove that two and two made four, you might find somedifficulty, and yet you are quite sure of the fact. Even across thestreet I could see a great blue anchor tattooed on the back of thefellow's hand. That smacked of the sea. He had a military carriage,however, and regulation side whiskers. There we have the marine. He wasa man with some amount of self-importance and a certain air of command.You must have observed the way in which he held his head and swunghis cane. A steady, respectable, middle-aged man, too, on the face ofhim--all facts which led me to believe that he had been a sergeant."
"Wonderful!" I ejaculated.
"Commonplace," said Holmes, though I thought from his expression that hewas pleased at my evident surprise and admiration. "I said just now thatthere were no criminals. It appears that I am wrong--look at this!" Hethrew me over the note which the commissionaire had brought. [7]
"Why," I cried, as I cast my eye over it, "this is terrible!"
"It does seem to be a little out of the common," he remarked, calmly."Would you mind reading it to me aloud?"
This is the letter which I read to him----
"MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,--
"There has been a bad business during the night at 3, Lauriston Gardens,off the Brixton Road. Our man on the beat saw a light there about two inthe morning, and as the house was an empty one, suspected that somethingwas amiss. He found the door open, and in the front room, which is bareof furniture, discovered the body of a gentleman, well dressed, andhaving cards in his pocket bearing the name of 'Enoch J. Drebber,Cleveland, Ohio, U.S.A.' There had been no robbery, nor is there anyevidence as to how the man met his death. There are marks of blood inthe room, but there is no wound upon his person. We are at a loss as tohow he came into the empty house; indeed, the whole affair is a puzzler.If you can come round to the house any time before twelve, you will findme there. I have left everything _in statu quo_ until I hear from you.If you are unable to come I shall give you fuller details, and wouldesteem it a great kindness if you would favour me with your opinion.Yours faithfully,
"TOBIAS GREGSON."
"Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yarders," my friend remarked;"he and Lestrade are the pick of a bad lot. They are both quick andenergetic, but conventional--shockingly so. They have their knivesinto one another, too. They are as jealous as a pair of professionalbeauties. There will be some fun over this case if they are both putupon the scent."
I was amazed at the calm way in which he rippled on. "Surely there isnot a moment to be lost," I cried, "shall I go and order you a cab?"
"I'm not sure about whether I shall go. I am the most incurably lazydevil that ever stood in shoe leather--that is, when the fit is on me,for I can be spry enough at times."
"Why, it is just such a chance as you have been longing for."
"My dear fellow, what does it matter to me. Supposing I unravel thewhole matter, you may be sure that Gregson, Lestrade, and Co. willpocket all the credit. That comes of being an unofficial personage."
"But he begs you to help him."