"Well, she had a slate-colored, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a

feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads

sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her

dress was brown, rather darker than coffee color, with a little

purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were grayish and

were worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots I didn't

observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a

general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable,

easy-going way."

Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled.

"'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have

really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed

everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and

you have a quick eye for color. Never trust to general

impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. My

first glance is always at a woman's sleeve. In a man it is

perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As you

observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most

useful material for showing traces. The double line a little

above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table,

was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type,

leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side

of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the

broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and,

observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I

ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed

to surprise her."

"It surprised me."

"But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and

interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots

which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were

really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and

the other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lower

buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and

fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly

dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned,

it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry."

"And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by

my friend's incisive reasoning.

"I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving

home but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right

glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see

that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. She had

written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. It must have been

this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger.

All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back

to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertised

description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

I held the little printed slip to the light.

"Missing [it said] on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman

named Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height;

strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in

the centre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted

glasses, slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen,

in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert

chain, and gray Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over

elastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an office in

Leadenhall Street. Anybody bringing--"

"That will do," said Holmes. "As to the letters," he continued,

glancing over them, "they are very commonplace. Absolutely no

clew in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There

is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike

you."

"They are typewritten," I remarked.

"Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the

neat little 'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you

see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is

rather vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive

--in fact, we may call it conclusive."

"Of what?"

"My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it

bears upon the case?"

"I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able

to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were

instituted."

"No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters,

which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the

other is to the young lady's stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking

him whether he could meet us here at six o'clock tomorrow

evening. It is just as well that we should do business with the

male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until the

answers to those letters come, so we may put our little problem

upon the shelf for the interim."

I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers

of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that

he must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy

demeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he had

been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known him to fail, in

the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler

photograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of 'The

Sign of Four', and the extraordinary circumstances connected with

'A Study in Scarlet', I felt that it would be a strange tangle

indeed which he could not unravel.