It may have been a comedy, or it may have been a tragedy. It cost one
man his reason, it cost me a blood-letting, and it cost yet another man
the penalties of the law. Yet there was certainly an element of
comedy. Well, you shall judge for yourselves.
I remember the date very well, for it was in the same month that Holmes
refused a knighthood for services which may perhaps some day be
described. I only refer to the matter in passing, for in my position
of partner and confidant I am obliged to be particularly careful to
avoid any indiscretion. I repeat, however, that this enables me to fix
the date, which was the latter end of June, 1902, shortly after the
conclusion of the South African War. Holmes had spent several days in
bed, as was his habit from time to time, but he emerged that morning
with a long foolscap document in his hand and a twinkle of amusement in
his austere grey eyes.
"There is a chance for you to make some money, friend Watson," said he.
"Have you ever heard the name of Garrideb?"