PART I.
3. CHAPTER III. THE LAURISTON GARDENS MYSTERY
(continued)
"They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking
pains," he remarked with a smile. "It's a very bad
definition, but it does apply to detective work."
Gregson and Lestrade had watched the manoeuvres of their
amateur companion with considerable curiosity and some
contempt. They evidently failed to appreciate the fact, which
I had begun to realize, that Sherlock Holmes' smallest actions
were all directed towards some definite and practical end.
"What do you think of it, sir?" they both asked.
"It would be robbing you of the credit of the case if I was
to presume to help you," remarked my friend. "You are doing
so well now that it would be a pity for anyone to interfere."
There was a world of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke.
"If you will let me know how your investigations go,"
he continued, "I shall be happy to give you any help I can.
In the meantime I should like to speak to the constable who
found the body. Can you give me his name and address?"
Lestrade glanced at his note-book. "John Rance," he said.
"He is off duty now. You will find him at 46, Audley Court,
Kennington Park Gate."
Holmes took a note of the address.
"Come along, Doctor," he said; "we shall go and look him up.
I'll tell you one thing which may help you in the case,"
he continued, turning to the two detectives. "There has been
murder done, and the murderer was a man. He was more than
six feet high, was in the prime of life, had small feet for
his height, wore coarse, square-toed boots and smoked a
Trichinopoly cigar. He came here with his victim in a
four-wheeled cab, which was drawn by a horse with three old shoes
and one new one on his off fore leg. In all probability the
murderer had a florid face, and the finger-nails of his right
hand were remarkably long. These are only a few indications,
but they may assist you."
Lestrade and Gregson glanced at each other with an incredulous
smile.
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