It was in the early autumn of 1896 that, returning one day from visiting by train a patient in Hertfordshire and being thus in the vicinity of Baker Street, I decided to call on Sherlock Holmes, whom I had not seen for several weeks. I found him, to my dismay, in a sad state. Although it was by now late afternoon he was still in his dressing-gown lounging upon the sofa in our old sitting room, his violin lying on the floor beside him and the air musty with cold tobacco smoke from the neglected pipe left carelessly upon the sofa arm. I glanced at once to the mantelpiece where there lay always that neat morocco case which contained the syringe. It was in its customary place, but, when under pretence of examining the familiar bullet-marked letters 'VR' on the wall above, I stepped closer, I saw that it lay upon the envelope of a letter postmarked only two days earlier.
'Well, Holmes,' I said, jovially as I could, 'I see that your bullet holes of yore are still here.'
'It would be strange indeed, Watson, had they disappeared,' my old friend answered, with somewhat more fire than he had earlier greeted me.
He laughed then in a melancholy enough fashion.
'Yet I could wish that they had vanished between one night and the next morning,' he added. 'It would at least provide my mind with some matter to work upon.'
My spirits sank at the words. Holmes had always needed stimulation, and if no problem was there to arouse his mind a seven per cent solution of cocaine awaited.
'But have you no case on hand?' I asked.
'Some trifling affairs,' Holmes replied. 'A commission for the Shah of Persia, a little question of missing securities in Pittsburgh. Nothing to engage my full attention. But, you, my dear Watson, how is it that you have been visiting a patient in Hertfordshire?'
I turned to my old friend in astonishment. I had said nothing of the reason for my being in the vicinity.
'Oh, come, doctor,' he said. 'Do I have to explain to you once again the simple signs that tell me such things? Why, they are written on your person as clearly as if you carried a newspaper billboard proclaiming them.'
'I dare say they may be, Holmes. But beyond the fact that Baker Street station serves that particular county and that I
nowadays visit you chiefly when I chance to be in the locality, I
cannot see how this time you can know so much of my business.' 'And yet the moment you removed your gloves the characteristic pungent odour of iodoform was heavy in the air,
indicating beyond doubt that your excursion had been on a professional matter. While your boots are dust- covered to the very tops, which surely means that you travelled for some little time on a country lane.'
I glanced down at my boots. The evidence was all too plain to see.
'Well, yes,' I admitted. 'I did receive this morning a request to visit a gentleman living near Rickmansworth whose condition
was causing him anxiety. An unhealed lesion on the abdomen complicated by brain fever, but I have high hopes of a good recovery.'
'My dear Watson, under your care who can doubt of that? But I am surprised to hear that your practice now extends to the remote Hertfordshire countryside.'
I smiled.
'No, no. I assure you none other of my patients necessitates any journey longer than one performed easily in a hansom.' 'And yet you have just been down to Hertfordshire?'
'Yes. I was called on this morning by the manservant of a certain Mr Smith, a trusted fellow, I gathered, though of
European origin. He told me that his master had instructed him to seek out a London doctor and to request a visit as soon as possible. Apparently, Mr Smith has a somewhat morbid fear of
any of his close neighbours knowing that he is ill and so prefers a physician from a distance, even if the visit means a considerably greater financial outlay.'
'You were well remunerated then?'
'I think I may say, handsomely so.'
'I am not surprised to hear it.'
'No, there, Holmes, you are at fault. My services were not asked for because of any particular reputation I may have. In fact, the manservant happened to be in my neighbourhood upon some other errand and, so I understand, simply saw my brass plate and rang at my door.'
Holmes raised himself upon one elbow on the sofa. His eyes seemed to me to shine now with a healthier light.
'You misunderstand me, Watson. You had already indicated that your services were called upon more or less by chance. But what I was saying was that the size of your fee did not surprise me, since it is clearly evident that you were required for a quality quite other than your medical attainments.'
'Indeed?' I answered, a little nettled I must confess. 'And what quality had you in mind?'
'Why, distance, my dear fellow. The distance between medical adviser and patient, and the complete discretion that follows from that.'
'I am by no means sure that I understand.'
'No? Yet the matter is simple enough. A person living in a remote country house, a gentleman for whom monetary considerations have little weight, sends a trusted servant to obtain the immediate services of a London doctor, of any London doctor more or less, and you expect me to be surprised that you received a fee altogether out of the ordinary?'
'Well, Holmes,' I replied, 'I will not disguise that my remuneration was perhaps excessive. But my patient evidently is a wealthy man and one prey to nervous fears. He trusts, too, to receive my continuing attentions from week to week. The situation does not strike me as being very much out of the ordinary.'
'No, Watson? But I tell you that it is out of the ordinary. The man you attended this afternoon is no ordinary man, you may take my word for that.'
'Well, if you say so, Holmes, if you say so,' I replied.
Yet I could not but think that for once my old friend had read too much into the circumstances, and I quickly sought for some other subject of conversation, being much relieved when Holmes too seemed disinclined to pursue a matter in which he might be thought to have me at a disadvantage. The remainder of the visit passed pleasantly enough, and I had the satisfaction of leaving Holmes looking a good deal more brisk and cheerful than he had done upon my arrival.
I went down to Hertfordshire again a week later and found my patient already much better for the treatment I had prescribed. I was hopeful enough, indeed, to feel that another two or three weeks of the same regimen, which included plenty of rest and a light diet, would see the illness through.
It was just as I stepped back from the bed after concluding my examination, however, that out of the corner of my eye I detected a sharp movement just outside the window. I was so surprised, since there was no balcony outside, that something of my alarm must have communicated itself to my patient who at once demanded, with the full querulousness of his indisposition, what it was that I had seen.
'I thought I saw a man out there, a glimpse of a face, dark brown and wrinkled,' I answered without premeditation, so disturbed was I by an aura of malignancy I had been aware of even from my brief sight of that visage.
