Voyage of the Gloria Scott, he read.
That was a bad business. I have some recollection that you made a record of it,
Watson, though I was unable to congratulate you upon the result. Victor Lynch, the forger.
Venomous lizard or gila. Remarkable case, that! Vittoria, the circus belle. Vanderbilt and
the Yeggman. Vipers. Vigor, the Hammersmith wonder. Hullo! Hullo! Good old index. You
cant beat it. Listen to this, Watson. Vampirism in Hungary. And again, Vampires in
Transylvania. He turned over the pages with eagerness, but after a short intent
perusal he threw down the great book with a snarl of disappointment.
Rubbish, Watson, rubbish! What have we to do with
walking corpses who can only be held in their grave by stakes driven through their hearts?
Its pure lunacy.
But surely, said I, the vampire was not
necessarily a dead man? A living person might have the habit. I have read, for example, of
the old sucking the blood of the young in order to retain their youth.
You are right, Watson. It mentions the legend in one of
these references. But are we to give serious attention to such things? This agency stands
flat-footed upon the ground, and there it must remain. The world is big enough for us. No
ghosts need apply. I fear that we cannot take Mr. Robert Ferguson very seriously. Possibly
this note may be from him and may throw some light upon what is worrying him.
He took up a second letter which had lain unnoticed upon the
table while he had been absorbed with the first. This he began to read with a smile of
amusement upon his face which gradually faded away into an expression of intense interest
and concentration. When he had finished he sat for some little time lost in thought  with the letter dangling from his
fingers. Finally, with a start, he aroused himself from his reverie.
Cheesemans, Lamberley. Where is Lamberley,
It is in Sussex, south of Horsham.
Not very far, eh? And Cheesemans?
I know that country, Holmes. It is full of old houses
which are named after the men who built them centuries ago. You get Odleys and
Harveys and Carritonsthe folk are forgotten but their names live in
Precisely, said Holmes coldly. It was one of the
peculiarities of his proud, self-contained nature that though he docketed any fresh
information very quietly and accurately in his brain, he seldom made any acknowledgment to
the giver. I rather fancy we shall know a good deal more about Cheesemans,
Lamberley, before we are through. The letter is, as I had hoped, from Robert Ferguson. By
the way, he claims acquaintance with you.
You had better read it.
He handed the letter across. It was headed with the address
- DEAR MR. HOLMES [it said]:
I have been recommended to you by my lawyers, but indeed the
matter is so extraordinarily delicate that it is most difficult to discuss. It concerns a
friend for whom I am acting. This gentleman married some five years ago a Peruvian lady,
the daughter of a Peruvian merchant, whom he had met in connection with the importation of
nitrates. The lady was very beautiful, but the fact of her foreign birth and of her alien
religion always caused a separation of interests and of feelings between husband and wife,
so that after a time his love may have cooled towards her and he may have come to regard
their union as a mistake. He felt there were sides of her character which he could never
explore or understand. This was the more painful as she was as loving a wife as a man
could haveto all appearance absolutely devoted.
Now for the point which I will make more plain when we meet.
Indeed, this note is merely to give you a general idea of the situation and to ascertain
whether you would care to interest yourself in the matter. The lady began to show some
curious traits quite alien to her ordinarily sweet and gentle disposition. The gentleman
had been married twice and he had one son by the first wife. This boy was now fifteen, a
very charming and affectionate youth, though unhappily injured through an accident in
childhood. Twice the wife was caught in the act of assaulting this poor lad in the most
unprovoked way. Once she struck him with a stick and left a great weal on his arm.
This was a small matter, however, compared with her conduct to
her own child, a dear boy just under one year of age. On one occasion about a month ago
this child had been left by its nurse for a few minutes. A loud cry from the baby, as of
pain, called the nurse back. As she ran into the room she saw her employer, the lady,
leaning over the baby and apparently biting his neck. There was a small wound in the neck
from which a stream of blood had escaped. The nurse was so horrified that she wished to
call the husband, but the lady implored her not to do so and actually gave her five pounds
 as a price for her
silence. No explanation was ever given, and for the moment the matter was passed over.
It left, however, a terrible impression upon the nurses
mind, and from that time she began to watch her mistress closely and to keep a closer
guard upon the baby, whom she tenderly loved. It seemed to her that even as she watched
the mother, so the mother watched her, and that every time she was compelled to leave the
baby alone the mother was waiting to get at it. Day and night the nurse covered the child,
and day and night the silent, watchful mother seemed to be lying in wait as a wolf waits
for a lamb. It must read most incredible to you, and yet I beg you to take it seriously,
for a childs life and a mans sanity may depend upon it.
At last there came one dreadful day when the facts could no
longer be concealed from the husband. The nurses nerve had given way; she could
stand the strain no longer, and she made a clean breast of it all to the man. To him it
seemed as wild a tale as it may now seem to you. He knew his wife to be a loving wife,
and, save for the assaults upon her stepson, a loving mother. Why, then, should she wound
her own dear little baby? He told the nurse that she was dreaming, that her suspicions
were those of a lunatic, and that such libels upon her mistress were not to be tolerated.
While they were talking a sudden cry of pain was heard. Nurse and master rushed together
to the nursery. Imagine his feelings, Mr. Holmes, as he saw his wife rise from a kneeling
position beside the cot and saw blood upon the childs exposed neck and upon the
sheet. With a cry of horror, he turned his wifes face to the light and saw blood all
round her lips. It was sheshe beyond all questionwho had drunk the poor
So the matter stands. She is now confined to her room. There
has been no explanation. The husband is half demented. He knows, and I know, little of
vampirism beyond the name. We had thought it was some wild tale of foreign parts. And yet
here in the very heart of the English Sussexwell, all this can be discussed with you
in the morning. Will you see me? Will you use your great powers in aiding a distracted
man? If so, kindly wire to Ferguson, Cheesemans, Lamberley, and I will be at your
rooms by ten oclock.
- Yours faithfully,
- ROBERT FERGUSON.
- P. S. I believe your friend Watson played Rugby for
Blackheath when I was three-quarter for Richmond. It is the only personal introduction
which I can give.
Of course I remembered him, said I as I laid
down the letter. Big Bob Ferguson, the finest three-quarter Richmond ever had. He
was always a good-natured chap. Its like him to be so concerned over a friends
Holmes looked at me thoughtfully and shook his head.
I never get your limits, Watson, said he.
There are unexplored possibilities about you. Take a wire down, like a good fellow.
Will examine your case with pleasure.
We must not let him think that this agency is a home for
the weak-minded. Of course it is his case. Send him that wire and let the matter rest till
at ten oclock next morning Ferguson strode into our room. I had remembered him as a
long, slab-sided man with loose limbs and a fine turn of speed which had carried him round
many an opposing back. There is surely nothing in life more painful than to meet the wreck
of a fine athlete whom one has known in his prime. His great frame had fallen in, his
flaxen hair was scanty, and his shoulders were bowed. I fear that I roused corresponding
emotions in him.
Hullo, Watson, said he, and his voice was still
deep and hearty. You dont look quite the man you did when I threw you over the
ropes into the crowd at the Old Deer Park. I expect I have changed a bit also. But
its this last day or two that has aged me. I see by your telegram, Mr. Holmes, that
it is no use my pretending to be anyones deputy.
It is simpler to deal direct, said Holmes.
Of course it is. But you can imagine how difficult it is
when you are speaking of the one woman whom you are bound to protect and help. What can I
do? How am I to go to the police with such a story? And yet the kiddies have got to be
protected. Is it madness, Mr. Holmes? Is it something in the blood? Have you any similar
case in your experience? For Gods sake, give me some advice, for I am at my
Very naturally, Mr. Ferguson. Now sit here and pull
yourself together and give me a few clear answers. I can assure you that I am very far
from being at my wits end, and that I am confident we shall find some solution.
First of all, tell me what steps you have taken. Is your wife still near the
We had a dreadful scene. She is a most loving woman, Mr.
Holmes. If ever a woman loved a man with all her heart and soul, she loves me. She was cut
to the heart that I should have discovered this horrible, this incredible, secret. She
would not even speak. She gave no answer to my reproaches, save to gaze at me with a sort
of wild, despairing look in her eyes. Then she rushed to her room and locked herself in.
Since then she has refused to see me. She has a maid who was with her before her marriage,
Dolores by namea friend rather than a servant. She takes her food to her.
Then the child is in no immediate danger?
Mrs. Mason, the nurse, has sworn that she will not leave
it night or day. I can absolutely trust her. I am more uneasy about poor little Jack, for,
as I told you in my note, he has twice been assaulted by her.
But never wounded?
No, she struck him savagely. It is the more terrible as
he is a poor little inoffensive cripple. Fergusons gaunt features softened as
he spoke of his boy. You would think that the dear lads condition would soften
anyones heart. A fall in childhood and a twisted spine, Mr. Holmes. But the dearest,
most loving heart within.
Holmes had picked up the letter of yesterday and was reading
it over. What other inmates are there in your house, Mr. Ferguson?
Two servants who have not been long with us. One
stable-hand, Michael, who sleeps in the house. My wife, myself, my boy Jack, baby,
Dolores, and Mrs. Mason. That is all.
I gather that you did not know your wife well at the
time of your marriage?
I had only known her a few weeks.
How long had this maid Dolores been with her?
your wifes character would really be better known by Dolores than by you?
Yes, you may say so.
Holmes made a note.
I fancy, said he, that I may be of more use
at Lamberley than here. It is eminently a case for personal investigation. If the lady
remains in her room, our presence could not annoy or inconvenience her. Of course, we
would stay at the inn.
Ferguson gave a gesture of relief.
It is what I hoped, Mr. Holmes. There is an excellent
train at two from Victoria if you could come.
Of course we could come. There is a lull at present. I
can give you my undivided energies. Watson, of course, comes with us. But there are one or
two points upon which I wish to be very sure before I start. This unhappy lady, as I
understand it, has appeared to assault both the children, her own baby and your little
That is so.
But the assaults take different forms, do they not? She
has beaten your son.
Once with a stick and once very savagely with her
Did she give no explanation why she struck him?
None save that she hated him. Again and again she said
Well, that is not unknown among stepmothers. A
posthumous jealousy, we will say. Is the lady jealous by nature?
Yes, she is very jealousjealous with all the
strength of her fiery tropical love.
But the boyhe is fifteen, I understand, and
probably very developed in mind, since his body has been circumscribed in action. Did he
give you no explanation of these assaults?
No, he declared there was no reason.
Were they good friends at other times?
No, there was never any love between them.
Yet you say he is affectionate?
Never in the world could there be so devoted a son. My
life is his life. He is absorbed in what I say or do.
Once again Holmes made a note. For some time he sat lost in
No doubt you and the boy were great comrades before this
second marriage. You were thrown very close together, were you not?
Very much so.
And the boy, having so affectionate a nature, was
devoted, no doubt, to the memory of his mother?
He would certainly seem to be a most interesting lad.
There is one other point about these assaults. Were the strange attacks upon the baby and
the assaults upon your son at the same period?
In the first case it was so. It was as if some frenzy
had seized her, and she had vented her rage upon both. In the second case it was only Jack
who suffered. Mrs. Mason had no complaint to make about the baby.
That certainly complicates matters.
I dont quite follow you, Mr. Holmes.
Possibly not. One forms provisional theories and waits
for time or fuller  knowledge
to explode them. A bad habit, Mr. Ferguson, but human nature is weak. I fear that your old
friend here has given an exaggerated view of my scientific methods. However, I will only
say at the present stage that your problem does not appear to me to be insoluble, and that
you may expect to find us at Victoria at two oclock.
It was evening of a dull, foggy November day when, having left
our bags at the Chequers, Lamberley, we drove through the Sussex clay of a long winding
lane and finally reached the isolated and ancient farmhouse in which Ferguson dwelt. It
was a large, straggling building, very old in the centre, very new at the wings with
towering Tudor chimneys and a lichen-spotted, high-pitched roof of Horsham slabs. The
doorsteps were worn into curves, and the ancient tiles which lined the porch were marked
with the rebus of a cheese and a man after the original builder. Within, the ceilings were
corrugated with heavy oaken beams, and the uneven floors sagged into sharp curves. An
odour of age and decay pervaded the whole crumbling building.
There was one very large central room into which Ferguson led
us. Here, in a huge old-fashioned fireplace with an iron screen behind it dated 1670,
there blazed and spluttered a splendid log fire.
The room, as I gazed round, was a most singular mixture of
dates and of places. The half-panelled walls may well have belonged to the original yeoman
farmer of the seventeenth century. They were ornamented, however, on the lower part by a
line of well-chosen modern water-colours; while above, where yellow plaster took the place
of oak, there was hung a fine collection of South American utensils and weapons, which had
been brought, no doubt, by the Peruvian lady upstairs. Holmes rose, with that quick
curiosity which sprang from his eager mind, and examined them with some care. He returned
with his eyes full of thought.
Hullo! he cried. Hullo!
A spaniel had lain in a basket in the corner. It came slowly
forward towards its master, walking with difficulty. Its hind legs moved irregularly and
its tail was on the ground. It licked Fergusons hand.
What is it, Mr. Holmes?
The dog. Whats the matter with it?
Thats what puzzled the vet. A sort of paralysis.
Spinal meningitis, he thought. But it is passing. Hell be all right
soonwont you, Carlo?
A shiver of assent passed through the drooping tail. The
dogs mournful eyes passed from one of us to the other. He knew that we were
discussing his case.
Did it come on suddenly?
In a single night.
How long ago?
It may have been four months ago.
Very remarkable. Very suggestive.
What do you see in it, Mr. Holmes?
A confirmation of what I had already thought.
For Gods sake, what do you think, Mr. Holmes? It
may be a mere intellectual puzzle to you, but it is life and death to me! My wife a
would-be murderermy child in constant danger! Dont play with me, Mr. Holmes.
It is too terribly serious.
The big Rugby three-quarter was trembling all over. Holmes put
his hand soothingly upon his arm.
fear that there is pain for you, Mr. Ferguson, whatever the solution may be, said
he. I would spare you all I can. I cannot say more for the instant, but before I
leave this house I hope I may have something definite.
Please God you may! If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I
will go up to my wifes room and see if there has been any change.
He was away some minutes, during which Holmes resumed his
examination of the curiosities upon the wall. When our host returned it was clear from his
downcast face that he had made no progress. He brought with him a tall, slim, brown-faced
The tea is ready, Dolores, said Ferguson.
See that your mistress has everything she can wish.
She verra ill, cried the girl, looking with
indignant eyes at her master. She no ask for food. She verra ill. She need doctor. I
frightened stay alone with her without doctor.
Ferguson looked at me with a question in his eyes.
I should be so glad if I could be of use.
Would your mistress see Dr. Watson?
I take him. I no ask leave. She needs doctor.
Then Ill come with you at once.
I followed the girl, who was quivering with strong emotion, up
the staircase and down an ancient corridor. At the end was an iron-clamped and massive
door. It struck me as I looked at it that if Ferguson tried to force his way to his wife
he would find it no easy matter. The girl drew a key from her pocket, and the heavy oaken
planks creaked upon their old hinges. I passed in and she swiftly followed, fastening the
door behind her.
On the bed a woman was lying who was clearly in a high fever.
She was only half conscious, but as I entered she raised a pair of frightened but
beautiful eyes and glared at me in apprehension. Seeing a stranger, she appeared to be
relieved and sank back with a sigh upon the pillow. I stepped up to her with a few
reassuring words, and she lay still while I took her pulse and temperature. Both were
high, and yet my impression was that the condition was rather that of mental and nervous
excitement than of any actual seizure.
She lie like that one day, two day. I fraid she
die, said the girl.
The woman turned her flushed and handsome face towards me.
Where is my husband?
He is below and would wish to see you.
I will not see him. I will not see him. Then she
seemed to wander off into delirium. A fiend! A fiend! Oh, what shall I do with this
Can I help you in any way?
No. No one can help. It is finished. All is destroyed.
Do what I will, all is destroyed.
The woman must have some strange delusion. I could not see
honest Bob Ferguson in the character of fiend or devil.
Madame, I said, your husband loves you
dearly. He is deeply grieved at this happening.
Again she turned on me those glorious eyes.
He loves me. Yes. But do I not love him? Do I not love
him even to sacrifice myself rather than break his dear heart? That is how I love him. And
yet he could think of mehe could speak of me so.
is full of grief, but he cannot understand.
No, he cannot understand. But he should trust.
Will you not see him? I suggested.
No, no, I cannot forget those terrible words nor the
look upon his face. I will not see him. Go now. You can do nothing for me. Tell him only
one thing. I want my child. I have a right to my child. That is the only message I can
send him. She turned her face to the wall and would say no more.
I returned to the room downstairs, where Ferguson and Holmes
still sat by the fire. Ferguson listened moodily to my account of the interview.
How can I send her the child? he said. How
do I know what strange impulse might come upon her? How can I ever forget how she rose
from beside it with its blood upon her lips? He shuddered at the recollection.
The child is safe with Mrs. Mason, and there he must remain.
A smart maid, the only modern thing which we had seen in the
house, had brought in some tea. As she was serving it the door opened and a youth entered
the room. He was a remarkable lad, pale-faced and fair-haired, with excitable light blue
eyes which blazed into a sudden flame of emotion and joy as they rested upon his father.
He rushed forward and threw his arms round his neck with the abandon of a loving girl.
Oh, daddy, he cried, I did not know that you
were due yet. I should have been here to meet you. Oh, I am so glad to see you!
Ferguson gently disengaged himself from the embrace with some
little show of embarrassment.
Dear old chap, said he, patting the flaxen head
with a very tender hand. I came early because my friends, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson,
have been persuaded to come down and spend an evening with us.
Is that Mr. Holmes, the detective?
The youth looked at us with a very penetrating and, as it
seemed to me, unfriendly gaze.
What about your other child, Mr. Ferguson? asked
Holmes. Might we make the acquaintance of the baby?
Ask Mrs. Mason to bring baby down, said Ferguson.
The boy went off with a curious, shambling gait which told my surgical eyes that he was
suffering from a weak spine. Presently he returned, and behind him came a tall, gaunt
woman bearing in her arms a very beautiful child, dark-eyed, golden-haired, a wonderful
mixture of the Saxon and the Latin. Ferguson was evidently devoted to it, for he took it
into his arms and fondled it most tenderly.
Fancy anyone having the heart to hurt him, he
muttered as he glanced down at the small, angry red pucker upon the cherub throat.
It was at this moment that I chanced to glance at Holmes
and saw a most singular intentness in his expression. His face was as set as if it had
been carved out of old ivory, and his eyes, which had glanced for a moment at father and
child, were now fixed with eager curiosity upon something at the other side of the room.
Following his gaze I could only guess that he was looking out through the window at the
melancholy, dripping garden. It is true that a shutter had half closed outside and
obstructed the view, but none the less it was certainly at the window that Holmes was
fixing his concentrated attention. Then he smiled, and his eyes came back to the baby. On
its chubby neck there was this small puckered mark. Without  speaking, Holmes examined it with care. Finally he
shook one of the dimpled fists which waved in front of him.
Good-bye, little man. You have made a strange start in
life. Nurse, I should wish to have a word with you in private.
He took her aside and spoke earnestly for a few minutes. I
only heard the last words, which were: Your anxiety will soon, I hope, be set at
rest. The woman, who seemed to be a sour, silent kind of creature, withdrew with the
What is Mrs. Mason like? asked Holmes.
Not very prepossessing externally, as you can see, but a
heart of gold, and devoted to the child.
Do you like her, Jack? Holmes turned suddenly upon
the boy. His expressive mobile face shadowed over, and he shook his head.
Jacky has very strong likes and dislikes, said
Ferguson, putting his arm round the boy. Luckily I am one of his likes.
The boy cooed and nestled his head upon his fathers
breast. Ferguson gently disengaged him.
Run away, little Jacky, said he, and he watched
his son with loving eyes until he disappeared. Now, Mr. Holmes, he continued
when the boy was gone, I really feel that I have brought you on a fools
errand, for what can you possibly do save give me your sympathy? It must be an exceedingly
delicate and complex affair from your point of view.
It is certainly delicate, said my friend with an
amused smile, but I have not been struck up to now with its complexity. It has been
a case for intellectual deduction, but when this original intellectual deduction is
confirmed point by point by quite a number of independent incidents, then the subjective
becomes objective and we can say confidently that we have reached our goal. I had, in
fact, reached it before we left Baker Street, and the rest has merely been observation and
Ferguson put his big hand to his furrowed forehead.
For heavens sake, Holmes, he said hoarsely;
if you can see the truth in this matter, do not keep me in suspense. How do I stand?
What shall I do? I care nothing as to how you have found your facts so long as you have
really got them.
Certainly I owe you an explanation, and you shall have
it. But you will permit me to handle the matter in my own way? Is the lady capable of
seeing us, Watson?
She is ill, but she is quite rational.
Very good. It is only in her presence that we can clear
the matter up. Let us go up to her.
She will not see me, cried Ferguson.
Oh, yes, she will, said Holmes. He scribbled a few
lines upon a sheet of paper. You at least have the entree, Watson. Will you have the
goodness to give the lady this note?
I ascended again and handed the note to Dolores, who
cautiously opened the door. A minute later I heard a cry from within, a cry in which joy
and surprise seemed to be blended. Dolores looked out.
She will see them. She will leesten, said she.
At my summons Ferguson and Holmes came up. As we entered the
room Ferguson took a step or two towards his wife, who had raised herself in the bed, but
she held out her hand to repulse him. He sank into an armchair, while Holmes seated  himself beside him, after bowing
to the lady, who looked at him with wide-eyed amazement.
I think we can dispense with Dolores, said Holmes.
Oh, very well, madame, if you would rather she stayed I can see no objection. Now,
Mr. Ferguson, I am a busy man with many calls, and my methods have to be short and direct.
The swiftest surgery is the least painful. Let me first say what will ease your mind. Your
wife is a very good, a very loving, and a very ill-used woman.
Ferguson sat up with a cry of joy.
Prove that, Mr. Holmes, and I am your debtor
I will do so, but in doing so I must wound you deeply in
I care nothing so long as you clear my wife. Everything
on earth is insignificant compared to that.
Let me tell you, then, the train of reasoning which
passed through my mind in Baker Street. The idea of a vampire was to me absurd. Such
things do not happen in criminal practice in England. And yet your observation was
precise. You had seen the lady rise from beside the childs cot with the blood upon
Did it not occur to you that a bleeding wound may be
sucked for some other purpose than to draw the blood from it? Was there not a queen in
English history who sucked such a wound to draw poison from it?
A South American household. My instinct felt the
presence of those weapons upon the wall before my eyes ever saw them. It might have been
other poison, but that was what occurred to me. When I saw that little empty quiver beside
the small bird-bow, it was just what I expected to see. If the child were pricked with one
of those arrows dipped in curare or some other devilish drug, it would mean death if the
venom were not sucked out.
And the dog! If one were to use such a poison, would one
not try it first in order to see that it had not lost its power? I did not foresee the
dog, but at least I understand him and he fitted into my reconstruction.
Now do you understand? Your wife feared such an attack.
She saw it made and saved the childs life, and yet she shrank from telling you all
the truth, for she knew how you loved the boy and feared lest it break your heart.
I watched him as you fondled the child just now. His
face was clearly reflected in the glass of the window where the shutter formed a
background. I saw such jealousy, such cruel hatred, as I have seldom seen in a human
You have to face it, Mr. Ferguson. It is the more
painful because it is a distorted love, a maniacal exaggerated love for you, and possibly
for his dead mother, which has prompted his action. His very soul is consumed with hatred
for this splendid child, whose health and beauty are a contrast to his own weakness.
Good God! It is incredible!
Have I spoken the truth, madame?
The lady was sobbing, with her face buried in the pillows. Now
she turned to her husband.
How could I tell you, Bob? I felt the blow it would be
to you. It was better that I should wait and that it should come from some other lips than
mine. When this gentleman, who seems to have powers of magic, wrote that he knew all, I
think a year at sea would be my prescription for Master Jacky, said Holmes, rising
from his chair. Only one thing is still clouded, madame. We can quite understand
your attacks upon Master Jacky. There is a limit to a mothers patience. But how did
you dare to leave the child these last two days?
I had told Mrs. Mason. She knew.
Exactly. So I imagined.
Ferguson was standing by the bed, choking, his hands
outstretched and quivering.
This, I fancy, is the time for our exit, Watson,
said Holmes in a whisper. If you will take one elbow of the too faithful Dolores, I
will take the other. There, now, he added as he closed the door behind him, I
think we may leave them to settle the rest among themselves.
I have only one further note of this case. It is the letter
which Holmes wrote in final answer to that with which the narrative begins. It ran thus:
- BAKER STREET,
- Nov. 21st.
- Re Vampires
Referring to your letter of the 19th, I beg to state that I
have looked into the inquiry of your client, Mr. Robert Ferguson, of Ferguson and
Muirhead, tea brokers, of Mincing Lane, and that the matter has been brought to a
satisfactory conclusion. With thanks for your recommendation, I am, sir,
- Faithfully yours,
- SHERLOCK HOLMES.