“You certainly have the credit of being the first of us to find thisout and， as you say， it bears every mark of having been written bythe other participant in last night’s mystery. I have not had timeto examine this room yet， but with your permission I shall do sonow.”
As he spoke， he whipped a tape measure and a large roundmagnifying glass from his pocket. With these two implementshe trotted noiselessly about the room， sometimes stopping，occasionally kneeling， and once lying flat upon his face. Soengrossed was he with his occupation that he appeared to haveforgotten our presence， for he chattered away to himself under hisbreath the whole time， keeping up a running fire of exclamations，groans， whistles， and little cries suggestive of encouragementand of hope. As I watched him I was irresistibly reminded ofa pure-blooded， well-trained foxhound， as it dashes backwardsand forwards through the covert， whining in its eagerness， untilit comes across the lost scent. For twenty minutes or more hecontinued his researches， measuring with the most exact carethe distance between marks which were entirely invisible tome， and occasionally applying his tape to the walls in an equallyincomprehensible manner. In one place he gathered up verycarefully a little pile of gray dust from the floor， and packed itaway in an envelope. Finally he examined with his glass the wordupon the wall， going over every letter of it with the most minuteexactness. This done， he appeared to be satisfied， for he replacedhis tape and his glass in his pocket.
“They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains，” heremarked with a smile. “It’s a very bad definition， but it does applyto detective work.”
Gregson and Lestrade had watched the manoeuvres of theiramateur companion with considerable curiosity and somecontempt. They evidently failed to appreciate the fact， which Ihad begun to realize， that Sherlock Holmes’ smallest actions wereall 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 were topresume to help you，” remarked my friend. “You are doing so wellnow that it would be a pity for anyone to interfere.” There was aworld of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke. “If you will let me knowhow your investigations go，” he continued， “I shall be happy togive you any help I can. In the meantime I should like to speak tothe constable who found the body. Can you give me his name andaddress？”
Lestrade glanced at his notebook. “John Rance，” he said. “He isoff duty now. You will find him at 46， Audley Court， KenningtonPark Gate.”
Holmes took a note of the address.
“Come along， Doctor，” he said； “we shall go and look him up. I’lltell you one thing which may help you in the case，” he continued，turning to the two detectives. “There has been murder done， andthe murderer was a man. He was more than six feet high， wasin the prime of life， had small feet for his height， wore coarse，square-toed boots and smoked a Trichinopoly cigar. He camehere with his victim in a four-wheeled cab， which was drawn bya 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 fingernailsof his right hand were remarkably long. These are only a fewindications， but they may assist you.”
Lestrade and Gregson glanced at each other with an increduloussmile.
“If this man was murdered， how was it done？” asked the former.
“Poison，” said Sherlock Holmes curtly， and strode off. “Oneother thing， Lestrade，” he added， turning round at the door：
“ ‘Rache，’ is the German for ‘revenge’； so don’t lose your timelooking for Miss Rachel.”
With which Parthian shot he walked away， leaving the two rivalsopen mouthed behind him.
What John Rance Had To Tell
IT was one o’clock when we left No. 3， Lauriston Gardens.
Sherlock Holmes led me to the nearest telegraph office， whencehe dispatched a long telegram. He then hailed a cab， and orderedthe driver to take us to the address given us by Lestrade.
“There is nothing like first-hand evidence，” he remarked； “as amatter of fact， my mind is entirely made up upon the case， but stillwe may as well learn all that is to be learned.”
“You amaze me， Holmes，” said I. “Surely you are not as sure asyou pretend to be of all those particulars which you gave.”
“There’s no room for a mistake，” he answered. “The very firstthing which I observed on arriving there was that a cab had madetwo ruts with its wheels close to the curb. Now， up to last night，we have had no rain for a week， so that those wheels which leftsuch a deep impression must have been there during the night.
There were the marks of the horse’s hoofs， too， the outline ofone of which was far more clearly cut than that of the otherthree， showing that that was a new shoe. Since the cab was thereafter the rain began， and was not there at any time during themorning—I have Gregson’s word for that—it follows that it musthave been there during the night， and， therefore， that it broughtthose two individuals to the house.”
“That seems simple enough，” said I； “but how about the otherman’s height？”
“Why， the height of a man， in nine cases out of ten， can be toldfrom the length of his stride. It is a simple calculation enough，though there is no use my boring you with figures. I had thisfellow’s stride both on the clay outside and on the dust within.
Then I had a way of checking my calculation. When a man writeson a wall， his instinct leads him to write above the level of his owneyes. Now that writing was just over six feet from the ground. Itwas child’s play.”
“And his age？” I asked.
“Well， if a man can stride four and a half feet without thesmallest effort， he can’t be quite in the sere and yellow. Thatwas the breadth of a puddle on the garden walk which he hadevidently walked across. Patent-leather boots had gone round， andSquare-toes had hopped over. There is no mystery about it at all.