The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle - Sherlock Holm

1 The Adventure of the blue CarbuncleArthur Conan DoyleThis text is provided to you as-is without any warranty. No warranties of any kind, expressed or implied, are made to you as to thetext or any medium it may be on, including but not limited to warranties of merchantablity or fitness for a particular text was formatted from various free ASCII and HTML variants. See for an electronic form of this textand additional information about text comes from the collection s calledupon my friend SherlockHolmes upon the second morning afterChristmas, with the intention of wishinghim the compliments of the season. Hewas lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right,and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidentlynewly studied, near at hand.

2 Beside the couch wasa wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hunga very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, muchthe worse for wear, and cracked in several places. Alens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chairsuggested that the hat had been suspended in thismanner for the purpose of examination. You are engaged, said I; perhaps I interruptyou. Not at all. I am glad to have a friend withwhom I can discuss my results. The matter is aperfectly trivial one he jerked his thumb in thedirection of the old hat but there are points inconnection with it which are not entirely devoid ofinterest and even of instruction.

3 I seated myself in his armchair and warmed myhands before his crackling fire, for a sharp frosthad set in, and the windows were thick with theice crystals. I suppose, I remarked, that, homelyas it looks, this thing has some deadly story linkedon to it that it is the clue which will guide you inthe solution of some mystery and the punishmentof some crime. No, no. No crime, said Sherlock Holmes,laughing. Only one of those whimsical little in-cidents which will happen when you have fourmillion human beings all jostling each other withinthe space of a few square miles. Amid the actionand reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, ev-ery possible combination of events may be expectedto take place, and many a little problem will be pre-sented which may be striking and bizarre withoutbeing criminal.

4 We have already had experience ofsuch. So much so, I remarked, that of the last sixcases which I have added to my notes, three havebeen entirely free of any legal crime. Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recoverthe Irene Adler papers, to the singular case of MissMary Sutherland, and to the Adventure of the manwith the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt thatthis small matter will fall into the same innocentcategory. You know Peterson, the commissionaire? Yes. It is to him that this trophy belongs. It is his hat. No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. Ibeg that you will look upon it not as a batteredbillycock but as an intellectual problem.

5 And, first,as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmasmorning, in company with a good fat goose, whichis, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in frontof Peterson s fire. The facts are these: about fouro clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, asyou know, is a very honest fellow, was returningfrom some small jollification and was making hisway homeward down Tottenham Court Road. Infront of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man,walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a whitegoose slung over his shoulder. As he reached thecorner of Goodge Street, a row broke out betweenthis stranger and a little knot of roughs.

6 One of thelatter knocked off the man s hat, on which he raisedhis stick to defend himself and, swinging it over hishead, smashed the shop window behind him. Pe-terson had rushed forward to protect the strangerfrom his assailants; but the man, shocked at havingbroken the window, and seeing an official-lookingperson in uniform rushing towards him, droppedhis goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid thelabyrinth of small streets which lie at the back ofTottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fledat the appearance of Peterson, so that he was leftin possession of the field of battle, and also of thespoils of victory in the shape of this battered hatand a most unimpeachable Christmas goose.

7 Which surely he restored to their owner? My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It istrue that For Mrs. Henry Baker was printed upona small card which was tied to the bird s left leg,and it is also true that the initials H. B. are legibleupon the lining of this hat, but as there are somethousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of HenryBakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restorelost property to any one of them. What, then, did Peterson do? He brought round both hat and goose to me onChristmas morning, knowing that even the small-est problems are of interest to me. The goose weretained until this morning, when there were signsthat, in spite of the slight frost, it would be wellthat it should be eaten without unnecessary finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil theultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue toretain the hat of the unknown gentleman who losthis Christmas dinner.

8 Did he not advertise? No. Then, what clue could you have as to his iden-tity? 1 Only as much as we can deduce. From his hat? Precisely. But you are joking. What can you gather fromthis old battered felt? Here is my lens. You know my methods. Whatcan you gather yourself as to the individuality ofthe man who has worn this article? I took the tattered object in my hands andturned it over rather ruefully. It was a very ordinaryblack hat of the usual round shape, hard and muchthe worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk,but was a good deal discoloured. There was nomaker s name; but, as Holmes had remarked, theinitials H.

9 B. were scrawled upon one side. Itwas pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but theelastic was missing. For the rest, it was cracked,exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places,although there seemed to have been some attemptto hide the discoloured patches by smearing themwith ink. I can see nothing, said I, handing it back tomy friend. On the contrary, Watson, you can see every-thing. You fail, however, to reason from what yousee. You are too timid in drawing your inferences. Then, pray tell me what it is that you can inferfrom this hat? He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiarintrospective fashion which was characteristic ofhim.

10 It is perhaps less suggestive than it mighthave been, he remarked, and yet there are a fewinferences which are very distinct, and a few otherswhich represent at least a strong balance of prob-ability. That the man was highly intellectual is ofcourse obvious upon the face of it, and also thathe was fairly well-to-do within the last three years,although he has now fallen upon evil days. He hadforesight, but has less now than formerly, pointingto a moral retrogression, which, when taken withthe decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate someevil influence, probably drink, at work upon may account also for the obvious fact that hiswife has ceased to love him.