Sherlock Holmes: Before Baker Street by David Marcum (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📕

Holmes’s question caught me by surprise and my hand moved instinctively to the lapel badge of the Royal Astronomical Society that I always wore on any formal or social occasion. I returned a grin and answered, “I am indeed a fellow of the Royal Society – but more of an amateur star-gazer than a serious scientist. My father bought me my first telescope when I was eight years old, and I have never lost the fascination for staring into the great unknown. Is it a field of study that interests you?”

Holmes snorted rather dismissively. “No, I can’t say that it is. My focus has always been on more earthly matters.”

“Now, that is a shame. The Society thrives on the keen instincts and observational talents of its members. You don’t seem to miss much at all and would be well equipped looking through the lens of a reflecting telescope. But tell me, how did you know that I was a school master? Has Cedric been briefing you?”

Cedric, who was sat opposite me, laughed and held up his arms. “Not guilty, my Lord! You are now discovering why Mr. Holmes is such a well-regarded detective, Geraint.”

“I see. Well I am a master – or beak as the boys like to refer to us – at Harrow. I teach mathematics and have been in the post since leaving university. I have no great ambitions, so an easy life teaching at my former school seemed preferable to the rigours, demands, and uncertainties of a scientific career. In short, I suppose I am by nature somewhat slothful, Mr. Holmes. But I am still at a loss to know how you could have guessed my profession.”

“I rarely, if ever, resort to guesswork, Mr. Hughes. I follow a rudimentary, yet generally effective, pattern of observational analysis – placing one or two discernible facts together – to form a working hypothesis. The more facts and data I gather, the stronger becomes my supposition. In your case, the clues were overwhelming.”

I was at once both intrigued and vexed by his words. Was the course of my life so obviously transparent?

“I think you must carry on and put poor Geraint out of his misery, Mr. Holmes!” This time it was Cedric who spoke, looking every bit as keen as I was to hear more.

Holmes sat forward in his chair, his eyes fixed firmly on mine. “Your general demeanour speaks of someone used to the hubbub of a common room or school refectory. In the marquee you were completely unfazed by the noise and commotion around you. I watched you take the lead in shepherding your friends into the tent, pointing and issuing directions and ensuring that you were the last in, so as to leave no one behind. Ever the school master, your voice was clear and commanding, yet never close to a shout. Your attire attests to your chosen profession – a tweed frock coat, with leather padding on the elbows to minimise the wear as you work away at your desk and a pair of sleeve garters on that keenly-starched white shirt. Other tell-tale signs merely add to the whole: The ink stains on your left thumb and forefinger, the wooden ruler tucked within an inside pocket, and the eye glasses that you rely upon to read, yet hide within your top pocket for reasons of vanity. The profession suits your bachelor status, but I suspect that you have not given up all hope of marrying one day.”

It was a singular performance which prompted both Cedric and I to applaud, neither of us knowing what to say as a direct response. I felt no slight at the remarks and at once realised that his extraordinary talents set him apart, though I had no notion then that he would become the world-renowned investigator we know today. His mention of my bachelor status triggered a fresh set of thoughts which I then felt I had to share with the detective.

“You will no doubt think me presumptuous, Mr. Holmes, but since I have now seen you at work, there is a conundrum with which I am currently faced, upon which I would value your professional opinion. Clearly, I would not expect you to labour without recompense, so should say that I would be happy to pay you a reasonable fee for any help you can provide.”

Holmes nodded, sat back in his chair and brought his right index finger up to his thin lips while contemplating the proposition. “Without any offence to you, sir, I would prefer to hear the nature of the conundrum first, before I commit to provide any assistance – particularly if the matter you refer to concerns a young woman.”

For a second time, Holmes had succeeded in leaving me speechless. Once more, Cedric intervened on my behalf. “There is certainly no fooling you, Mr. Holmes. Geraint has already shared with me the facts of the matter I believe he is about to disclose – it is a pretty puzzle and does indeed concern an even prettier young lady.”

Holmes remained impassive, glancing casually in the direction of the accordion players before focusing once more on my expectant face. “The involuntary dilation of your pupils when I mentioned your hopes of marrying one day betrayed your emotional state. I will gladly listen to what you have to say, but must point out that I generally avoid cases of a matrimonial or romantic nature.”

I was quick to respond. “That is understood. But I think you will find the facts of this case a little more engaging.”

A quick nod from the detective suggested that he was in agreement, and with this as a sufficient inducement, I then began my narrative.

“A little over a year ago, I was called into the study of the Headmaster, the Reverend Henry Butler, with an announcement that he had a mission for me. He is an affable fellow, but one