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The Hound of the Baskervilles

Arthur Conan Doyle

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Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stick which our visitor had left behind him the night before. It was a fine, thick piece of wood, bulbous-headed, of the sort which is known as a ¡¥Penang lawyer.¡¦ Just under the head was a broad silver band nearly an inch across. ¡¥To James Mortimer, M.R.C.S., from his friends of the C.C.H.,¡¦ was engraved upon it, with the date ¡¥1884.¡¦ It was just such a stick as the old-fashioned family practitioner used to carry¡Xdignified, solid, and reassuring. ¡¥Well, Watson, what do you make of it?¡¦ Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign of my occupation. ¡¥How did you know what I was doing? I believe you have eyes in the back of your head.¡¦ ¡¥I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front of me,¡¦ said he. ¡¥But, tell me, Wats