PART I.
2. CHAPTER II. THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION.
(continued)
"Why, this article," I said, pointing at it with my egg spoon
as I sat down to my breakfast. "I see that you have read it
since you have marked it. I don't deny that it is smartly
written. It irritates me though. It is evidently the theory
of some arm-chair lounger who evolves all these neat little
paradoxes in the seclusion of his own study. It is not
practical. I should like to see him clapped down in a third
class carriage on the Underground, and asked to give the
trades of all his fellow-travellers. I would lay a thousand
to one against him."
"You would lose your money," Sherlock Holmes remarked calmly.
"As for the article I wrote it myself."
"You!"
"Yes, I have a turn both for observation and for deduction.
The theories which I have expressed there, and which appear
to you to be so chimerical are really extremely practical --
so practical that I depend upon them for my bread and cheese."
"And how?" I asked involuntarily.
"Well, I have a trade of my own. I suppose I am the only one
in the world. I'm a consulting detective, if you can
understand what that is. Here in London we have lots of
Government detectives and lots of private ones. When these
fellows are at fault they come to me, and I manage to put
them on the right scent. They lay all the evidence before
me, and I am generally able, by the help of my knowledge of
the history of crime, to set them straight. There is a
strong family resemblance about misdeeds, and if you have all
the details of a thousand at your finger ends, it is odd if
you can't unravel the thousand and first. Lestrade is a
well-known detective. He got himself into a fog recently
over a forgery case, and that was what brought him here."
"And these other people?"
"They are mostly sent on by private inquiry agencies.
They are all people who are in trouble about something,
and want a little enlightening. I listen to their story,
they listen to my comments, and then I pocket my fee."
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