I saw the vague outline of a man, a shade blacker than the blackness of the open door.
I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with Sherlock Holmes.
To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to underestimate one’s self is as much a departure from truth as to exaggerate one’s own powers.
There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood.
Well, well,” said he, at last. “It is, of course, possible that a cunning man might change the tires of his bicycle in order to leave unfamiliar tracks. A criminal who was capable of such a thought is a man whom I should be proud to do business with.
Tut, tut, we have solved some worse problems. At least we have plenty of material, if we can only use it.
The proper study of mankind is man,’ you know.
Existe entre los hechos delictivos un gran parecido de familia, y si usted se sabe por completo y en detalle un millar de casos, pocas veces deja de poner en claro el mil uno.
Before we begin to investigate that, let us try to realize what we do know, so as to make the most of it, and to separate the essential from the accidental.
As we approached the forbidding and squalid inn, with the sign of a game-cock above the door, Holmes gave a sudden groan, and clutched me by the shoulder to save himself from falling. He had had one of those violent strains of the ankle which leave a man helpless.
Then my friend’s wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair.
Be frank with me and we may do some good. Play tricks with me, and I’ll crush you.
The man pervades London, and no one has heard of him. That’s what puts him on a pinnacle in the records of crime.
The individual must not monopolize what is meant for the world. I.
When we were left alone in the stone-flagged kitchen, it was astonishing how rapidly that sprained ankle recovered.
From the point of view of the criminal expert,” said Mr. Sherlock Holmes, “London has become a singularly uninteresting city since the death of the late lamented Professor Moriarty.
It was nine o’clock at night upon the second of August – the most terrible August in the history of the world.
Can you recall that the tracks were sometimes like that, Watson,” – he arranged a number of bread-crumbs in this fashion – : : : : : – ”and sometimes like this” – :. :. :. :. – ”and occasionally like this” –. :. :. :. “Can you remember that?” “No, I cannot.
Now, Watson,” said he, “we have picked up two clues this morning. One is the bicycle with the Palmer tyre, and we see what that has led to. The other is the bicycle with the patched Dunlop. Before we start to investigate that, let us try to realize what we do know, so as to make the most of it, and to separate the essential from the accidental.
Do you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at. Perhaps.