Experience, said Holmes, laughing. Indirectly it may be of value,
you know; you have only to put it into words to gain the reputation of
being excellent company for the remainder of your existence.
X. THE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELOR
The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have long
ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which
the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and
their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from this
four-year-old drama. As I have reason to believe, however, that the
full facts have never been revealed to the general public, and as my
friend Sherlock Holmes had a considerable share in clearing the matter
up, I feel that no memoir of him would be complete without some little
sketch of this remarkable episode.
It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was
still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came home from
an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for him. I
had remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn
to rain, with high autumnal winds, and the jezail bullet which I had
brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign
throbbed with dull persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and my
legs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers
until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all
aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the
envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend s noble
correspondent could be.
Here is a very fashionable epistle, I remarked as he entered. Your
morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a
tide-waiter.
Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety, he
answered, smiling, and the humbler are usually the more interesting.
This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon
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