It was a long day. Every time that a knock came to the door or
a sharp step passed in the street, I imagined that it was either
Holmes returning or an answer to his advertisement. I tried to
read, but my thoughts would wander off to our strange quest and
to the ill-assorted and villainous pair whom we were pursuing.
Could there be, I wondered, some radical flaw in my compan-
ion's reasoning? Might he not be suffering from some huge
self-deception? Was it not possible that his nimble and specula-
tive mind had built up this wild theory upon faulty premises? I
had never known him to be wrong, and yet the keenest reasoner
may occasionally be deceived. He was likely, I thought, to fall
into error through the over-refinement of his logic -- his prefer-
ence for a subtle and bizarre explanation when a plainer and
more commonplace one lay ready to his hand. Yet, on the other
hand, I had myself seen the evidence, and I had heard the
reasons for his deductions. When I looked back on the long
chain of curious circumstances, many of them trivial in them-
selves but all tending in the same direction, I could not disguise
from myself that even if Holmes's explanation were incorrect the
true theory must be equally outre and startling.
At three o'clock on the afternoon there was a loud peal at the
bell, an authoritative voice in the hall, and, to my surprise, no
less a person than Mr.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118