He writes from Lower Brixton, said Mycroft Holmes. Do you not think that we might drive to him now, Sherlock, and learn these particulars? My dear Mycroft, the brother's life is more valuable than the sister's story. I think we should call at Scotlan...
We had reached our house in Baker Street while we had been talking. Holmes ascended the stair first, and as he opened the door of our room he gave a start of surprise. Looking over his shoulder, I was equally astonished. His brother Mycroft was sitti...
You have hopes of solving it? Well, knowing as much as we do, it will be singular indeed if we fail to discover the rest. You must yourself have formed some theory which will explain the facts to which we have listened. In a vague way, yes. What was...
Any steps? he asked. Mycroft picked up the Daily News, which was lying on the side-table. Anybody supplying any information as to the whereabouts of a Greek gentleman named Paul Kratides, from Athens, who is unable to speak English, will be rewarded....
He opened the door as he spoke, and I had hardly time to spring out when the coachman lashed the horse and the carriage rattled away. I looked around me in astonishment. I was on some sort of a heathy common mottled over with dark clumps of furze-bus...
I cannot tell you the loathing and horror with which this insignificant-looking man inspired me. I could see him better now as the lamp-light shone upon him. His features were peaky and sallow, and his little pointed beard was thready and ill-nourish...
Harold, said she, speaking English with a broken accent. I could not stay away longer. It is so lonely up there with onlyOh, my God, it is Paul! These last words were in Greek, and at the same instant the man with a convulsive effort tore the plaster...
Have you the slate, Harold? cried the older man, as this strange being fell rather than sat down into a chair. Are his hands loose? Now, then, give him the pencil. You are to ask the questions, Mr. Melas, and he will write the answers. Ask him first...
There was a colored gas-lamp inside which was turned so low that I could see little save that the hall was of some size and hung with pictures. In the dim light I could make out that the person who had opened the door was a small, mean-looking, middl...
His words were quiet, but he had a rasping way of saying them which was very menacing. I sat in silence wondering what on earth could be his reason for kidnapping me in this extraordinary fashion. Whatever it might be, it was perfectly clear that the...
