I Should Be Very Much Obliged If

I Am An Omnivorous Reader With A Strangely Retentive Memory For Trifles.

Detection Is, Or Ought To Be, An Exact Science, And Should Be Treated In The Same Cold And Unemotional Manner. You Have Attempted To Tinge It With Romanticism, Which Produces Much The Same Effect As If You Worked A Love-story Or An Elopement Into The Fifth Proposition Of Euclid.

...it Was A Huge Creature, Luminous, Ghastly, And Spectral. I Have Cross-examined These Men, One Of Them A Hard-headed Countryman, One A Farrier, And One A Moorland Farmer, Who All Tell The Same Story Of This Dreadful Apparition, Exactly Corresponding To The Hell-hound Of The Legend. I Assure You That There Is A Reign Of Terror In The District, And That It Is A Hardy Man Who Will Cross The Moor At Night.

It Is Not Really Difficult To Construct A Series Of Inferences, Each Dependent Upon Its Predecessor And Each Simple In Itself. If, After Doing So, One Simply Knocks Out All The Central Inferences And Presents One's Audience With The Starting-point And The Conclusion, One May Produce A Startling, Though Perhaps A Meretricious, Effect.

Now Is The Dramatic Moment Of Fate, Watson, When You Hear A Step Upon The Stair Which Is Walking Into Your Life, And You Know Not Whether For Good Or Ill.