The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Whitechapel Horrors Read Free

almost as if you have an insulating wall around you, a magical glass curtain through which you can be seen and heard but out of which you cannot see or hear! Is this a talent you were born with, old chap, or have you cultivated it over the years? Trained yourself through arduous study and painstaking application?”
    “Really, Holmes, you exaggerate,” Watson replied defensively. He was both hurt by Holmes’s sarcastic rebuke and just a little annoyed.
    “Do I? Do I indeed? Well, let us try a little test, shall we? Take, for example, the couple sitting at the table to my left and slightly behind me. You’ve been eyeing the young lady avidly enough during our meal. I deduce that it is the low cut of her gown that interests you, for her facial beauty is of the kind that comes mostly from the paint pot and is not of the good, simple English variety that usually attracts your attention. What can you tell me about the couple in general?”
    Watson glanced over Holmes’s shoulder. “Oh, that pretty little thing with the auburn hair — the one with the stoutish, balding chap, eh?”
    “Yaas,” Holmes drawled, the single word heavy with sarcasm. Heexamined his fingernails. “The wealthy American couple, just come over from Paris on the boat-train without their servants. He’s in railroads, in the western regions of the United States, I believe, but has spent no little time in England. They are waiting — he, rather impatiently, anxiously — for a third party to join them, a business acquaintance, no doubt — one who is beneath their station but of no small importance to them in any event.”
    Watson put down his cup with a clatter. “Really, Holmes! Really! ” he sputtered. “There is no possible way you could know all that. Not even you! This time you have gone too far.”
    “Have I indeed? Your problem, dear chap, as I have had occasion to remind you, is that you see but do not observe; you hear but do not listen. For a literary man, Watson — and note that I do not comment on the merit of your latest account of my little problems — for a man with the pretenses of being a writer, you are singularly unobservant. Honestly, sometimes I am close to despair.”
    He removed a cigarette from his case with a flourish and paused for the waiter to light it, a mischievous glint in his eye.
    Watson gave him a sidelong look. “Very well, Holmes, I will nibble at your lure. Pray explain yourself!”
    Holmes threw back his head and laughed. “But it is so very simple. As I have told you often enough, one has only to take note of the basic facts. For example, a mere glance will tell you that this particular couple is not only wealthy, but extremely wealthy. Their haughty demeanor, the quality of their clothes, the young lady’s jewelry, and the gentleman’s rather large diamond ring on the little finger of his left hand would suffice to tell you that. The ring also identifies our man as American: A ‘pinky ring,’ I believe it is called. What Englishman of breeding would ever think of wearing one of those?”
    Holmes drew on his cigarette and continued, the exhalation ofsmoke intermingling with his dissertation. “That they are recently come from Paris is equally apparent: The lady is wearing the very latest in Parisian fashion — the low decolletage is, I believe, as decidedly French as it is delightfully revealing — and the fabric of the gown is obviously quite new, stiff with newness, probably never worn before. That they arrived this very evening is not terribly difficult to ascertain. Their clothes are somewhat creased, you see. Fresh out of the steamer trunk. Obviously, their appointment at Simpson’s is of an urgent nature, otherwise they would have taken the time to have the hotel valet remove the creases before changing into the garments. That they are traveling without personal servants can be deduced by the simple fact that the gentleman’s sleeve links, while similar, are mismatched, and the lady’s