The Sign Of Four
contributor: Eric Lease Morgan (Infomotions, Inc.)
creator: Doyle, Arthur Conan
extent: 244810
format: text/plain
language: en
publisher: Wiretap Electronic Text Archive
rights: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/GPL/2.0/
source: signfour.dyl
subject: holmes
subject: man
subject: sholto
subject: time
subject: morstan
subject: treasure
subject: cool
subject: beaune
subject: lunch
subject: additional
subject: exasperation
subject: produced
subject: extreme
subject: deliberation
subject: manner
subject: doyle
subject: arthur
subject: conan
subject: sign
subject: english
subject: literature
type: text
local mirror: doyle-sign-389.txt
concordance: http://infomotions.com/alex/cgi-bin/concordance.pl
plain html: doyle-sign-389.htm
sort title: Sign Of Four, The
full text: [obi/Doyle/sign.of.four.txt] Chapter 1 The Science of Deduction Sherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantel- piece, and his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle and rolled back his left shirtcuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the sinewy forearm and wrist, all dotted and scarred with innumerable puncture-marks. Finally, he thrust the sharp point home, pressed down the tiny piston, and sank back into the velvet-lined armchair with a long sigh of satisfaction. Three times a day for many months I had witnessed this performance, but custom had not reconciled my mind to it. On the contrary, from day to day I had become more irritable at the sight, and my conscience swelled nightly within me at the thought that I had lacked the courage to protest. Again and again I had registered a vow that I should deliver my soul upon the subject; but there was that in the cool, nonchalant air of my companion which made him the last man with whom one would care to take anything approaching to a liberty. His great powers, his masterly manner, and the experience which I had had of his many extraor- dinary qualities, all made me diffident and backward in crossing him. Yet upon that afternoon, whether it was the Beaune which I had taken with my lunch or the additional exasperation produced by the extreme deliberation of his manner, I suddenly felt that I could hold out no longer. "Which is it to-day," I asked, "morphine or cocaine?" He raised his eyes languidly from the old black-letter volume which he had opened. "It is cocaine," he said, "a seven-per-cent solution. Would you care to try it?" "No, indeed," I answered brusquely. "My constitution has not got over the Afghan campaign yet. I cannot afford to throw any extra strain upon it." He smiled at my vehemence. "Perhaps you are right, Wat- son," he said. "I suppose that its influence is physically a bad one. I find i…