Sherlock Holmes and the Discarded Cigarette Read Free Page A

but these did not come within the horizon of my companion. I could see nothing recorded in the shape of crime which was not commonplace and futile. Holmes groaned and resumed his restless meanderings.

    The London criminal is certainly a dull fellow,” Holmes said in the querulous voice of the sportsman whose game has failed him. “Look out of these windows this evening Watson.” Holmes indicated to his windows facing onto Baker Street
    â€œSee how the figures loom up, are dimly seen, and then blend once more into the cloudbank. The thief or the murderer could roam London on such a day as the tiger does the jungle, unseen until he pounces, and then evident only to his victim.”
    â€œThere have,” he said, “been numerous petty thefts.” Holmes snorted his contempt as he folded up the paper and dropped it by his side. “This great and somber stage is set for something more worthy than that,” said he. “It is fortunate for this community that I am not a criminal.” “It is, indeed!” said I heartily.

Chapter 7
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    As it had been arranged by Holmes the previous evening, precisely at 7:00 o’clock our transport was waiting in the street for us. As I climbed in, Holmes gave the driver our destination then climbed in beside me. With quick jerk of the horse’s reins we were off traveling the nighttime gas lit still wet cobble stone streets of London.
    After traveling across the city for some time we found ourselves on King Street and only a few of blocks away from our final destination. As our hansom slowly cab pulled up to the well gas lit front entrance of the theater both Holmes and I could tell by the number of people mingling about outside St. James’s and waiting to enter that many others in London were as curious to find out about this new author as we were.
    After Holmes paid the fare we left the cab and proceeded inside, we then made our way from the busy and bustling front entrance of the theater, checked our coats and hats, had our tickets verified by an usher then Holmes and I made our way through small and large groups of people engaged in conversation.
    We crossed the ornately decorated and carpeted chandelier lit foyer and found our way into semi darkened theater where we looked for the row letter and seat numbers that had been stamped on our tickets. “Here we are Watson, row E seats 20 and 21 and it appears that our seats are located about mid way along the row.”
    Finally making our way to our seats with out any one impeding our progress Holmes and I settled in to our respective seats and waited for the performance to begin. As we were sitting there together I soaked up the atmosphere and conversations that was going on all around me. Holmes was scanning the audience I assumed looking to locate some of the missing criminal element he had commented on earlier.
    Before either of us had any time to really take in the people sitting beside us and in front of us the gas lights on the walls of the theater were being dimmed. At the same time two stage hands were crossing the large stage from right to left lighting in turn each of the lime lights that would illuminate the performer.
    As the last of the theaters gas lights were being extinguished the level of conversation also seemed to be extinguished too. When the theater was quiet a tall distinguished looking gentleman in formal evening dress appeared from the right wing of the stage (obviously the master of ceremonies), when he reached the middle of the stage he stopped, turned and faced the audience.
    â€œGood evening ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a deep booming male voice that I’m sure could be heard all the way to the exits at the back of the theater “on behalf of the St. James Theater and our guest speaker I would like to thank you for coming to hear him this evening”.
    There was a pause “Mr. H.G. Wells is known to many in London as a novelist, journalist,