Yes.
What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?
Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face,
though he s not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon his
forehead.
Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. I thought as
much, said he. Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced for
earrings?
Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he was a
lad.
Hum! said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. He is still with
you?
Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him.
And has your business been attended to in your absence?
Nothing to complain of, sir. There s never very much to do of a
morning.
That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an opinion upon
the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is Saturday, and I
hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion.
Well, Watson, said Holmes when our visitor had left us, what do you
make of it all?
I make nothing of it, I answered frankly. It is a most mysterious
business.
As a rule, said Holmes, the more bizarre a thing is the less
mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes
which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most
difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this matter.
42