On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have
during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock
Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange,
but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his
art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself
with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even
the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any
which presented more singular features than that which was associated
with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The
events in question occurred in the early days of my association with
Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It is
possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a
promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been
freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom
the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should now
come to light, for I have reasons to know that there are widespread
rumours as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the
matter even more terrible than the truth.
It was early in April in the year 83 that I woke one morning to find
Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was
a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me
that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some
surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself
regular in my habits.
Very sorry to knock you up, Watson, said he, but it s the common lot
this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me,
and I on you.
What is it, then a fire?
No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable
state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in
the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at
this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds,
I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to
communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am
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