“Wanted, a woman of good address, attired like a lady. She has a
remarkably thick nose, with eyes which are set close upon either side
of it. She has a puckered forehead, a peering expression, and probably
rounded shoulders. There are indications that she has had recourse to an
optician at least twice during the last few months. As her glasses are
of remarkable strength and as opticians are not very numerous, there
should be no difficulty in tracing her.”
Holmes smiled at the astonishment of Hopkins, which must have been
reflected upon my features.
“Surely my deductions are simplicity itself,” said he. “It would be
difficult to name any articles which afford a finer field for inference
than a pair of glasses, especially so remarkable a pair as these. That
they belong to a woman I infer from their delicacy, and also, of course,
from the last words of the dying man. As to her being a person of
refinement and well dressed, they are, as you perceive, handsomely
mounted in solid gold, and it is inconceivable that anyone who wore such
glasses could be slatternly in other respects. You will find that the
clips are too wide for your nose, showing that the lady's nose was very
broad at the base. This sort of nose is usually a short and coarse one,
but there are a sufficient number of exceptions to prevent me from being
dogmatic or from insisting upon this point in my description. My own
face is a narrow one, and yet I find that I cannot get my eyes into the
centre, or near the centre, of these glasses. Therefore the lady's eyes
are set very near to the sides of the nose. You will perceive, Watson,
that the glasses are concave and of unusual strength. A lady whose
vision has been so extremely contracted all her life is sure to have the
physical characteristics of such vision, which are seen in the forehead,
the eyelids, and the shoulders.”
“Yes,” I said, “I can follow each of your arguments. I confess, however,
that I am unable to understand how you arrive at the double visit to the
optician.”
Holmes took the glasses in his hand.
“You will perceive,” he said, “that the clips are lined with tiny
bands of cork to soften the pressure upon the nose. One of these is
discoloured and worn to some slight extent, but the other is new.
Evidently one has fallen off and been replaced. I should judge that the
older of them has not been there more than a few months. They
exactly correspond, so I gather that the lady went back to the same
establishment for the second.”
“By George, it's marvellous!” cried Hopkins, in an ecstasy of
admiration. “To think that I had all that evidence in my hand and
never knew it! I had intended, however, to go the round of the London
opticians.”
“Of course you would. Meanwhile, have you anything more to tell us about
the case?”
“Nothing, Mr. Holmes. I think that you know as much as I do
now--probably more. We have had inquiries made as to any stranger seen
on the country roads or at the railway station. We have heard of none.
What beats me is the utter want of all object in the crime. Not a ghost
of a motive can anyone suggest.”
“Ah! there I am not in a position to help you. But I suppose you want us
to come out to-morrow?”
“If it is not asking too much, Mr. Holmes. There's a train from Charing
Cross to Chatham at six in the morning, and we should be at Yoxley Old
Place between eight and nine.”
“Then we shall take it. Your case has certainly some features of great
interest, and I shall be delighted to look into it. Well, it's nearly
one, and we had best get a few hours' sleep. I dare say you can manage
all right on the sofa in front of the fire. I'll light my spirit-lamp
and give you a cup of coffee before we start.”
The gale had blown itself out next day, but it was a bitter morning when
we started upon our journey. We saw the cold winter sun rise over the
dreary marshes of the Thames and the long, sullen reaches of the river,
which I shall ever associate with our pursuit of the Andaman Islander
in the earlier days of our career. After a long and weary journey we
alighted at a small station some miles from Chatham. While a horse was
being put into a trap at the local inn we snatched a hurried breakfast,
and so we were all ready for business when we at last arrived at Yoxley
Old Place. A constable met us at the garden gate.
“Well, Wilson, any news?”
“No, sir, nothing.”
“No reports of any stranger seen?”
“No, sir. Down at the station they are certain that no stranger either
came or went yesterday.”
“Have you had inquiries made at inns and lodgings?”
“Yes, sir; there is no one that we cannot account for.”
“Well, it's only a reasonable walk to Chatham. Anyone might stay there,
or take a train without being observed. This is the garden path of
which I spoke, Mr. Holmes. I'll pledge my word there was no mark on it
yesterday.”
“On which side were the marks on the grass?”
“This side, sir. This narrow margin of grass between the path and the
flower-bed. I can't see the traces now, but they were clear to me then.”
“Yes, yes; someone has passed along,” said Holmes, stooping over the
grass border. “Our lady must have picked her steps carefully, must she
not, since on the one side she would leave a track on the path, and on
the other an even clearer one on the soft bed?”
“Yes, sir, she must have been a cool hand.”