The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1921-02-24

that I am as amazed as before."
 "It was very superficial, my dear
 Watson, l assure you. I should not have intruded it upon your attention had you not shown some incredulity the other day. But the evening has brought a breeze with it. What do you say to a ramble through Lon don.
 was weary of our little sitting room and gladly acquiesced. For three hours we strol1ed about together, watching the ever-changing kaleidoscope of life as it ebbs and flows through Fleet Street and the Strand. His haracteristic talk, with it's keen observance of detail and sub- tie power of inference. held me anus ed and enthralled. It was ten o'clock before we reached Baker Street again. A brougham was waiting at our door.
 Hum. A doctor's-genera1 prac- titioner, I perceive" said Holmes. Not been long in practice, but has had a good deal to do. Come to con- suit us, I fancyi Lucky we came back"
 I was sufficiently conversant with Holmes methods to be able to follow his reasoning, and to see that the cal instruments in the w1cKer basket which hung in the 1amplight inside the brougham had given him the data for his swift deduction. The light
 
 late visit was indeed intended for us. With some curiosity as to what could have sent a brother medico to us at such an hour, followed Holmes into our Sanctum.
 A pale, taper-faced man with sandy whiskers rose up from a chair by the fire as we entered. His age may not have been more than three or four and thirty. but his haggard expression and unhealthy hue told of a life which had sapped his strength and robbed him of his youth His manner was nervous and shy, like that of a white hand which he laid on the mante1piece as he rose was that of an artist rather than surgeon. His dress was quiet and sombre- black frock coat, dark trousers, and a touch of color about his necktie.
 Holmes, cheeriIy. q am glad to see that you have only been waiting a very few minutes"
 'You spoke to my coachman,
 'sNo, it was the candle on the side table that told me. Pray resume your seat and let me know how I can serve ,you.'
 My name is Doctor Percy Trevel-- van" said our visitor, ''and live at 4OS Brook street."
 Are you not the author of a. mon ograph upon obscure nervous lesions
 His pale cheeks flushed with pleas ure at hearing that his work was known to me.
 q so seldom hear of the work that I thought it was quite dark" said he l My publishers gave me a most dis | coura ging account of its sale. You are yourslf, I presume, a medical | c1an?''
 "A retired army surgeon"
 My own hobby has always been | nervous disease. I should wish to | make it an absolute specially, but, of l course, a man must take what he can | the question, MT. Sherlock Holmes, | and I quite appreciate how valuable | your time is. The fact is that a | very singular train of events has oc- l cured recently at my house in Brook l Street, and tonight they came to such | a head that I felt it was quite inn | possible for me to wait another hour | befor asking for your advice and as- 
 Sherlock Holmes sat down and lit | his pipe. You are very welcome to both,'' said he. Pray let me have a detailed account of what the circum- stances are which have disturbed | you"
 "One or two of them are so trivial." said pr. Treve1yan, "that really I am almost ashamed to mention them. But 1 the matter is so inexplicable, and the | recent turn which it has taken Is so | l fore you, and you shall judge what is essential and what is not
 "I am compelled to begin with, to 1 say something of my own college ca | reer. am London University man, you know, and I am sure that you will not think that am unduly singing my own praises if l say that my student career was considered by my professors to be a very prom1s1 ing one. After I had graduated I continued to devote myself to re- search, occupying a minor position in Kings College Hospital, and l was fortunate enough to excite considera- ble interest by my research into the of catalepsy, and finally to win the Bruce Pinkerton prize and medal by the monograph on nervous lesions to which your friend has just alluded I should not go too far if I were to say that there was a gen. eraI impression at that time that career lay before me- l
 But the one great stuubling-block | hay in my want of capital. As you | who aims high is compelled to start | n one of a dozen streets in the Cav l endiSh Square quarter, all of which | entail enormous rents and furnishing l expenses. Besides this preliminary | outlay. he must be prepared to keep | himself for some years, and to hire a l presentable carriage and horse To l do this was quite beyond my power, 1 and I could only hope that by econ only I might in ten years time save | enough to enable me to put up my plate. Suddenly, however, an unex- l nected incident opened up quite a new prospect to me.
 This was visit from a gentleman l of tho name of Blessington. who was | 3 complete stranger to me. He came | up into my room. one morning, and | plunged into business in an instant.
 "'You are the same Percy Trevel- | van who has had so distinguished a career and won a great prize 1ately?' | said he.
 -I bowed.
 Answer me frankly he contin- ued, for you will find it to your inter est to do so. You have all the clever ness which makes a. successful man. | Have you the tact?'
 "I could not help smiling at the ab- | ruptness Of the question.
 T trust that I have my share I |