Evidently these four were on very easy and intimate terms with one another.
With suspicion constantly thrown upon Cassimi and the Princess, the audiences must now wonder if Lady Gwynne and Mrs. Druce are also involved. Later, they'll realize that this hint was indeed correct; the group worked together to assist in Mlle. Cunier's removal from London.
“But I’ll put a bullet into him, take my word for it, if she isn’t found within another twenty-four hours. Personally I should prefer settling the brute in that fashion to handing him over to the police.”His face flashed a deep red, there came a sudden flash to his eye, but for all that, his voice was as soft and slow and unemotional, as though he were talking of nothing more serious than bringing down a partridge.
At this point, the audience struggles with discerning Major Druce's true character. Though his personality was confirmed as annoying earlier, there is conflicting information regarding his physical reactions versus his words. A lack of commentary from Loveday Brooke also places readers at a disadvantage; there are multiple possibilities of the perpetrators behind this mystery yet no evidence.
“Yes; Jews, Turks, heretics and infidels—all there. And they’re on the increase too, that’s the worst of it. Every week a fresh importation from Cairo.”
This attitude could be read differently from modern audiences versus its original intent. Modern day audiences should recognize the problematic nature of Mrs. Druce's words automatically; however, there's a possibility that the original audience of this serial was not as outraged regarding this attitude. Regardless, Major Druce immediately jumps into complaining upon his arrival, setting him up as annoying.
Hafiz Cassimi, according to the Major’ account, fell desperately in love with the little Swiss girl almost at first sight and pestered her with his attentions, and off and on there appear to have passed hot words between the two young men.”
There is now more evidence to tie Cassimi to the case, namely based upon the Major's suspicions. However, at this point, the audience is able to forget the feelings of the Princess, and they can assume that Cassimi is the perpetrator. The various cast of suspicious characters leaves the audience wondering if it is Cassimi, the Princess, or both; the audiences aren't sure where to turn.
“Lucie Cunier, lately your mother’s amaneuensis.”
The rest of the text follows Loveday Brooke's explanation, detailing the procedures of the case and the hints given in the text. She is painted as being Holmes-esque in terms of the complexities of her case-solving, but she is unlike him in that readers receive the evidence throughout the story. It is simply due to a lack of perspective that the clues cannot tie themselves together.
In spite of his grumbling, however, the Major kept his appointment, and nine o’clock the next morning saw him shaking hands with Miss Brooke on Eglacé’s doorstep.
At this point, the amount of personality one observes from Major Druce should allow them to deduce that he is not a culprit, thereby heightening the tension of the mystery.
she called a hansom, and desired the man to drive her to Madame Céline’s she spent close upon half-an-hour, giving many and minute directions for the making of a hat, which assuredly, when finished, would compare with nothing in the way of millinery that she had ever put upon her head.From Madame Céline’s the hansom conveyed her to an undertaker’s shop, at the corner of South Savile Street, and here she spent a brief ten minutes in conversation with the undertaker himself in his little back parlour.
These are two more clues for the audience to follow within the mystery. The lack of Loveday's perspective makes them too difficult to follow, but after reading Loveday's explanations, these clues will make sense, allowing her to appear astute.
into the light gossip that Loveday contrived to set going.
The audience is left wondering why Loveday is initiating gossip with the maid, something revealed later.
She turned to the butler, who had by this time returned and stood presenting the claret-cup
Earlier the butler departed for seemingly no reason only to return with the drink later. It will be revealed that this would be to leave his engagement ring, and this is yet another detail that Loveday picked up without the reader knowing due to a lack of her perspective within the story.
what seemed to Loveday a slightly scornful glance towards the Major.
The Princess's actions here once more make her suspicious, as is the departure of Lady Gwynne from before. It now seems that the entire house, aside from Major Druce, know something about what is going on.
“Moi, je suis fatigueé,”
French: "Me, I am tired"
Then, simultaneously, a glance flashed from Mrs. Druce to Lady Gwynne, from Lady Gwynne to Mrs. Druce, and then, also simultaneously, the eyes of both ladies rested, though only for an instant, on the big picture hat lying on the chair.Lady Gwynne started to her feet and seized her hat, adjusting it without so much as a glance at a mirror.
Later, Loveday will reveal to Major Druce that this is the moment in which she realizes the connection between Madame Céline and the case's mystery. Upon finishing the story, readers will be able to understand how this clue fit into the tale.
“Under my own,” she answered, “and please be very distinct in pronouncing it, raise your voice slightly so that everyone of those persons may hear it. And then, please add my profession, and say I am here at your request to investigate the circumstances connected with Mdlle. Cunier’s disappearance.”Major Druce looked astounded.“But—but,” he stammered, “have you seen anything — found out anything? If not, don’t you think it will be better to preserve your incognita a little longer.”“Don’t stop to ask questions,” said Loveday sharply; “now, this very minute, do what I ask you, or the opportunity will be gone.”
This is another example of Loveday going against the audience's expectations and leaving them unsure what to think. Major Druce highlights the shock they are supposed to feel, and readers are left uncertain of her intentions.
The butler, a small, dark, slight Frenchman, made his way through the throng to a window at Loveday’s right hand, to see if a little more air could be admitted.
This is the first introduction to Mlle. Cunier's lover and future husband. At the time, audiences do not know this and may view this as a simple description in order to better understand the scene. Later, however, they will be able to return and realize that was, in reality, a hint at solving the mystery.
From this quiet nook, as now and again the crowd parted, Loveday could command a fair view of both drawing-rooms.“Don’t attract attention to me by standing at my elbow,” she whispered to the Major.
Here, Major Druce's intrusion highlights the importance of Loveday's strategy. Her intention is to be quiet and out of the way to observe, and her irritation at his interference finally highlights some of her personality; she is intelligent, knows what she is doing, and is serious about her work.
“Don’t introduce me at all at first,” answered Loveday. “Get me into some quiet corner, where I can see without being seen. Later on in the afternoon, when I have had time to look round a little, I’ll tell you whether it will be necessary to introduce me or not.”
At this point, the audience is left unable to comprehend Loveday's methods or reasoning. They are unable to understand her thought process, and must wait until she explains her intentions in the future.
“Is Mademoiselle Catholic or Protestant, can you tell me?”
Here, Loveday Brooke asks a seemingly bizarre question. Religion has nothing to do with their previous conversation, and readers would be surprised at Brooke's questioning. However, after reading the story, they can look back and realize that this question lines up with Mlle. Cunier's secret marriage later on.
‘seule sur la terre.’”
French: "Alone on this earth"
“Was your mother a large-hearted, benevolent young woman?” Said the young man, turning upon him. “No! well then, thank Providence that she wasn’t; and admit that you know nothing at all on the matter.
If the annoying attitude did not already drain audiences, Major Druce snaps at Mr. Dyer for simply making a comment on how nice the former's mother is. This, combined with his lack of concern regarding Mlle. Cunier's disappearance, puts the audience at extreme odds with him.
The young man, by-the-way, appears to be rather hot-headed in his love-making, for within six weeks of his introduction to her their engagement was announced. No doubt it had Mrs. Druce’s fullest approval, for knowing her son’s extravagant habits and his numerous debts, it must have been patent to her that a rich wife was a necessity to him.
This establishes conflict between Major Druce and the Princess while also hinting at the latter's personality. Though Major Druce, as the one initiating the case, is by default considered to be a guiltless character, he is shown to be marrying for money, being careless with money, and of course, having feelings for another woman. At this point, the audience begins to question his character.
Later, this conflict will also serve as a hint regarding Mlle. Cunier's disappearance. The Princess is jealous of the attention she receives from her fiancé, resulting in her removal from London.
There was assuredly nothing in his appearance to substantiate his statement to Mr. Dyer that he “hadn’t slept a wink all night, thatin fact another twenty-four hours of this terrible suspense would send him into his grave.”
Major Druce displays no indication of worry. His put together appearance combined with the earlier commentary on his habits now places him in the audience's suspicions.
It was at the house of these Cassimis that the Major first met the Princess, and he states that she and young Cassimi are like brother and sister to each other.
This sentence, with the emphasis on the close relationship between the Princess and Cassimi, leaves audiences with the impression that perhaps the two worked together in forcing Mlle. Cunier to disappear.
It also indicates where the Major's suspicions lie. At this point, the audience is not aware of his agenda; however, the fact that he is the one requesting Loveday to work on this case initially establishes him as being benevolent.
I wonder if the Princess Dullah-Veih was on an equally pleasant footing with her when she saw, as no doubt she did, the attention she received at the Major’s hands.” (Mr. Dyer shrugged his shoulders.) “The Major’s suspicions do not point in that direction, in spite of the fact which I elicited from him by judicious questioning, that the Princess has a violent and jealous temper, and has at times made his life a burden to him.
Here, the text reveals the possibility of the culprit being Princess Dullah-Veih. Evidence is stacked up against her, and the audience can begin deciphering these clues. Later, they'll realize that only half of them are important.
“Well, of course,” she said presently, “that photograph must have been stolen by someone in the house, and, equally of course, that someone must know more on the matter than he or she cares to avow, and, most probably, has some interest in throwing obstacles in the way of tracing the girl. At the same time, however, the fact in no way disproves the possibility that a crime, and a very black one, may underlie the girl’s disappearance.”
This paragraph serves as the first direction of the mystery. A woman, Lucie Cunier, is missing, and Loveday considers the fact that it may be for a malevolent cause; readers immediately become fightened for the missing woman.
Loveday is also quick to assume that someone in the house is the culprit behind the missing photograph and that someone is likely hiding information. At this point, there is no evidence to indicate this though it turns out to be true. This is the first example that the audience is able to turn to after finishing the story and realize that Loveday was correct.
—it’s—it’s just a little fad of mine.”
Hewitt's stuttering is a huge indicator to the audience that something is amiss. Other than this one instance, the detective has remained a cool, confident, and put-together individual meant to be admired similarly to Holmes. Therefore, this single instance is meant to be a clue to the reader regarding the outcome of the case. Why does Hewitt choose Mr. Lloyd's room, and what could he want with sugar and a walnut?
cage with a quill tooth-pick and played a moment with the parrot
The tooth-pick is likely Hewitt testing out his theory regarding the parrot sneaking into the room through the window as it would leave bite marks on it. Later, the detective will reveal that there are bite marks on the matches, and so this could be a way in which to match the two. However, the lack of information makes the reader unable to follow Hewitt's thought process, painting him as particularly clever in the moment.
“Scarcely,” said Hewitt, shaking his head. “Scarcely, so far, to be called significant, although worth following up. Everybody uses matches in the dark, you know.”
Here, Hewitt corrects his employer based upon the technicality of the word "significant." He is meant to appear particularly clever, but may come across as cocky or even rude. Audiences, therefore, may have difficulties deciding how to feel about him.
. Well, they went on their walk and came back with Lloyd (whom they had met somewhere)
This is the first clue of the mystery's answer which Hewitt explains later. Lloyd is met "somewhere," and the fact that this location is not only omitted but placed into parentheses brings this lack of knowledge into focus for the reader. Immediately, they are to assume that this "somewhere" may be important.
This was the beginning of the private detective business of Martin Hewitt, and his actions at that time had been completely justified by the brilliant professional successes he has since achieved.
Here, Martin Hewitt is, similar to Sherlock Holmes, established as being a revered character earning lots of success within his investigations. Readers are automatically meant to assume that he is capable of handling the case, setting up his character for the rest of the story.
“System?” said Hewitt, with a shrug of his shoulder an hour or two after, in Sir James’s study. ‘I can’t say I have a system.
The rest of this dialogue involves Hewitt describing his methods of solving the case to Sir James in a very similar manner to Loveday Brooke. Here, the readers are able to track down the clues from before and understand their reasoning now that they have the proper information needed (such as the bite marks on the match).
You see, I can’t suspect people till I know something about where they were.
Hewitt yet again corrects Sir James regarding his speech. The fact that he says this while "beaming genially" makes his personality difficult to decipher, but it could give some readers the impression that while he is clever, he is also somewhat stuck up.
The match-stand was proved to be empty, but matches were found in Miss Norris’s room, and the test was made.
This is another clue explained later by Hewitt; however, readers may be able to notice this on first glance considering that the thief left matches at the scene of the crime. The fact that the match-stand is empty within the house could suggest (and as the reader later finds out later, indeed proves) that the perpetrator is already within the home.
And we must guard against any undue predisposition to consider the robberies in a lump.
Though correct, Hewitt is very adamant regarding his correction of Sir James (once again). As Hewitt is supposed to be clever, this may project uncertainty onto the readers who are more than likely to assume that all of these robberies are connected.
“I think you might at least consider the question of painting and decorating, Sir James—or, say, putting up another coach-house, or something. Because I should like to be (to the servants) the architect—or the builder, if you please—come to look round. You haven’t told any of them about this business?”
Like Sherlock Holmes (though with no particular outfit or costume in mind), Hewitt intends to play a part in order to conduct his investigation unnoticed. This paints him as being a particularly skilled detective.
“I consider you, Brett,” he said, addressing me, “the most remarkable journalist alive. Not because you’re particularly clever, you know ; because, between ourselves, I hope you’ll admit you’re not ; but because you have known something of me and my doings for some years, and have never yet been guilty of giving away any of my little business secrets you may have become acquainted with. I’m afraid you’re not so enterprising a journalist as some, Brett. But now, since you ask, you shall write something—if you think it worth while.”
This is an open insult directed towards his friend, whom he says is not "particularly clever" nor "so enterprising a journalist as some." Despite this, Brett seems unfazed by this dialogue and continues to speak of Hewitt positively. As Brett is our narrator, it's confusing for readers - or at least, modern day ones - to visualize the detective and pinpoint his character as being "a hero."
genial and companionable manners.
This description here is interesting. The narrator and friend of Hewitt, Brett, describes the detective positively; however, in later paragraphs there are signs that he is rather aloof and in fact actively insults Brett himself. This gives his character a deeper personality compared to Loveday Brooke and Sherlock Holmes, two characters that his detective-like skills embody, but does not necessarily endear him to readers.
“I thought I told you not to disturb me under any circumstances,” I replied, somewhat tartly.
Already, the narrator (Dick Donovan) is established as being a man of high importance. He has an assistant that waits on him, and Donovan insists the he must remain unbothered due to the amount of work on his hands.
And there was no one in the whole household upon whom my suspicions fixed with the exception of Ronald Odell. If my assumption that he was the thief was correct, the mystery was so far explained ; and my next step was to discover why he had robbed his father, and what he had done with the property.
The clues from earlier about the mysteriousness of Ronald combined with mentioned of slippered feet above (which he wears), should lead the reader to come to this conclusion alongside Donovan. This allows for a very smooth read for the audience as they are able to work alongside a strong detective and understand his motives.
“Oh, I don’t know. He doesn’t tell us servants his affairs. But there’s something very queer about him. I don’t like his looks at all.”
This conversation at this point is leading the reader in the direction of finding Ronald Odell to be the thief, just as it is doing so for Donovan.
Whereupon the Colonel looked more than surprised, and proceeded to rattle off a string of questions with the object of learning why I spoke so decisively. But I was compelled to tell him that I could give him no reason, for though I had worked out a theory which intuitively I believed to be right, I had not at that moment a shred of acceptable proof in support of my theory, and that therefore I could not commit myself to raising suspicions against anyone until I was prepared to do something more than justify them.
While Donovan admittedly relies on appearances of people when using certain judgements, he also admits that it is not enough evidence to convict someone of a crime, and in this way he differs from Stokes. Rather, Donovan relies on his intuition to guide him while still looking for concrete evidence.
My object in asking the question was to see if he suspected in any way the existence of a secret door ; but it was now very obvious that he did nothing of the kind, and I did not deem it advisable to tell him of my own suspicions.
Once again, Donovan leads the reader through his exploratory process and keeps out not them but the other characters from his thoughts. This allows them to be in on the secret alongside the narrator and help solve the mystery as an equal.
I smiled as I told him I made a study of the various characters I was called upon to assume in pursuit of my calling, and that I was generally able to talk the character as well as dress it.
This may appear as a small anecdote, but it suggests that Donovan has several characters and actively researchers their knowledge, mannerisms, etc. to learn a little about them all, an impressive feat.
“No,” drawled the young fellow, “there isn’t a detective fellow in London capable of finding out how that skull was stolen, and where it has been taken to. Not even Dick Donovan, who is said to have no rival in his line.”
This portion of the text addresses both Donovan's fame and serves to hint at Ronald Odell's crime. The former is obvious and reveals the reader just how respected Donovan is to boost their respective of the character at the same time. In terms of the crime, Ronald Odell may appear unnecessarily pessimistic when questioned, especially due to the fact that his father is sitting distraught next to him.
and seemed to suffer from an unconquerable lassitude that gave him a lifeless, insipid appearance.
Unlike the other characters, Ronald Odell receives several negative physical characteristics as remarked by the narrator, which in the Victorian era may have notified them that something was amiss as they tended to associate physical features against beauty standards to be markers of criminals.
The butler was an elderly, sedate, gentlemanly-looking man ; the boy had an open, frank face, and the same remark applied to the two girls.
Here, Donovan is yet again relying on the physical appearances of people to determine their intentions and/or possible inclinations towards crime. It is simply him, like Stokes, relying on his intuition.
The Colonel assured me that the door of this room was always kept locked, and the key was never out of his possession. The lower part of the chimney of the old-fashioned fireplace I noticed was protected by iron bars let into the masonry, so that the thief, I was sure, did not come down the chimney ; nor did he come in at the window, for it only opened at each side, and the apertures were so small that a child could not have squeezed through. Having noted these things, I hinted to the Colonel that the thief had probably gained access to the room by means of a duplicate key. But he hastened to assure me that the lock was of a singular construction, having been specially made. There were only two keys to it. One he always carried about with him, the other he kept in a secret drawer in an old escritoire in his library, and he was convinced that nobody knew of its existence. He explained the working of the lock, and also showed me the key, which was the most remarkable key I ever saw ; and, after examining the lock, I came to the conclusion that it could not be opened by any means apart from the special key. Nevertheless the thief had succeeded in getting into the room. How did he manage it?
This chunk follows Donovan's thought process as he tries to figure out how the thief entered the treasure room, allowing the reader to easily follow along with what the answer could not be. They are therefore left with roughly the same information as Donovan and capable of coming up with their own conclusions.
The Colonel was most anxious that I should do this, and, requesting him to wait for a few minutes, I retired to my inner sanctum, and when I reappeared it was in the character of a venerable parson, with flowing grey hair, spectacles, and the orthodox white choker. My visitor did not recognise me until I spoke, and then he requested to know why I had transformed myself in such a manner. I told him I had a particular reason for it, but felt it was advisable not to reveal the reason then, and I enjoined on him the necessity of supporting me in the character I had assumed, for I considered it important that none of his household should know that I was a detective. I begged that he would introduce me as the Rev. John Marshall, from the Midland Counties. He promised to do this, and we took the next train down to Esher.
Here, Donovan is matching with Holmes quite well. Similar to Holmes, Donovan is able to dress up and change his image for the reader; however, his first person perspective makes this much more personable. Unlike Holmes, Donovan is not an unknowable, constantly changing person.
Donovan also matches Holmes in his sense of refusing to reveal his intentions, and likewise this is kept hidden for the Colonel. However, he does not hide any of this information from the reader, allowing them to understand what is going on in the same way he does.
As it seemed to me a somewhat frivolous matter for the Colonel to take up my time because he had lost the mouldy old skull of a dead and gone Rajah, I said, “Excuse me, Colonel, but you can hardly expect me to devote my energies to tracing this somewhat gruesome souvenir of yours, which probably the thief will hasten to bury as speedily as possible, unless he happens to be of a very morbid turn of mind.”
Though earlier Donovan does appear to be fierce and collected, this moment serves to humanize the detective for the reader. Although in many ways Donovan does appear to retain the fame of Holmes, he does not encompass an all-intelligent superiority compared to the reader. In fact, this moment marks a mistake on behalf of the detective as he jumps to conclusions before he understands the facts, exactly what detectives should NOT do. This paints him as more human, competent but capable of mistakes.
And as I glanced at his well-marked face, with its powerful jaw, I came to the conclusion that he was a martinet of the old-fashioned type, who, in the name of discipline, could perpetrate almost any cruelty ; and yet, on the other hand, when not under military influence, was capable of the most generous acts and deeds. He was faultlessly dressed, from his patent leather boots to his canary-coloured kid gloves. But though, judging from his dress, he was somewhat of a coxcomb, a glance at the hard, stern feature and the keen, deep-set grey eyes, was sufficient to dispel any idea that he was a mere carpet soldier.
Donovan marks himself here as someone who places a great emphasis on appearances when it comes to drawing conclusions, as he decides a large portion of the Colonel's personality simply based upon his face.
He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.
Sherlock, after just returning in a groom costume, now transforms into a clergyman and is here on out meant to be understood by other characters as being one. This is part of Sherlock's control over the story, giving readers no choice but to not only to rely on him for mental explanations but also to change the very core of his character, that of which for many characters remain stagnant: his physical appearance.
“You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come what may. You understand?”
Sherlock has just relayed a series of oddities related to the case and now moves into concrete actions he has taken without notice from either Watson or the reader. Rather, the information is being relayed back with no real explanation. The only knowledge the reader has is that of Watson's tasks, but not what it might involve as the text lacks details. This means the reader is unable to follow what is going on but is rather thrown into the mix and the whims of Holmes in the same way that Watson is.
“Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. ‘I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,’ she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements.”
The reader (and Watson) have just received a large wall of text regarding Holmes' adventures without being present at all. Rather, the audience and narrator are relying on Holmes to gain any understanding of what the plot is, placing Holmes in a position of power. The reader cannot grasp anything without his explanations.
“Oh, then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present.
Holmes is cocky here, already dismissing this supposedly very important case against a few other issues he's also tackling. There is no evidence here to suggest that he is joking or playing up the workload he already has, so the audience is meant to assume that this is how he normally works.
“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”“Seven!” I answered.“Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness.”“Then, how do you know?”“I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?”“My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out.”He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together.“It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession.”
This entire process represents three feats by Holmes:
Holmes fires this information off rapidly, receiving confirmations from Watson, and replies that "'It is simplicity itself.'" He then goes into detailing his reasoning, citing information such as the amount of cuts on leather and a bulge on the right side of Watson's top hat. None of these facts are given to the reader at any point, and so there is no way for the reader to follow along with these explanations beyond putting faith in Holmes. The text, in fact, makes it impossible to read without trusting him and his prowess.
Additionally, these observations that are mentioned are ones that it is unlikely many would notice; or, at least, no one would notice all of these facts at once and come to such a breezy, rapid-fire set of conclusions. This depicts Holmes as being beyond intelligent, and further establishes his credibility to the reader as well as the awe that the audience is supposed to hold for him.
All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind.
Within the first few sentences, Watson describes Holmes as if he is nonhuman. Rather than be warm and open, he is "cold" and "precise." However, this is not meant to be viewed negatively but rather depicts Holmes as someone admirable. Already, it establishes his character as someone far above Watson and therefore far above the reader.
“What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?”
This is one of the few instances that Holmes is described as anything other than cool and confident. This change in demeanor represents a shift in the plot as it begins to wrap up, and also describes Holmes' interest in Irene Adler as the the woman. She successfully outsmarted (or at least surprised) the man supposed to be incomparable to any other person.
“I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”
With the readers following Sherlock throughout this text, his lack of knowledge on the subject results in just as much uncertainty within the reader. As there is a lack of clues to go off of, they cannot even begin to deduce who that individual may be.
And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring another.
Though now his role in the scenario makes sense, Watson did initially agree to participate without any context, and that required a high level of trust within Holmes. As Watson was created as a bridge between readers and Holmes, we too are meant to trust Holmes.
as I expected,
Holmes often uses short phrases such as this one to emphasize that he knew what would happen all along. With his intelligence, he is almost able to see in the future, something no other human is able to do.
Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head.
This is yet another example of Watson praising Holmes and another example of his perspective shifting into tight, sharp words in order to give Holmes a layer of sophistication and intelligence beyond the average person.
“I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes.Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client.“If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, “I should be better able to advise you.”
Though his visitor just arrived, Holmes slips into disinterest as he already know the information that his client believes he is revealing for the first time. Despite establishing that his identity is meant to be secret, Holmes is quick to deduce that the King of Bohemia is the true name of his client with few indicators as to how this would be.
endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes.
Watson clearly holds admiration for Sherlock, the same admiration that readers are meant to share.
I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I remarked, “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours.”
This is one of the clearest examples of Watson being used as a self-insert for the reader. While he is allowed to possess certain qualities that may not apply to everyone, such as being married or a doctor, his voice is often meant to reflect the thoughts of readers. Immediately after receiving a largescale explanation from Holmes, the detective that readers are not meant to follow, Watson admits that he's "baffled" until the process is explain but that it all adds up together in the end. He also finishes with "And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours," applicable to the separation that readers feel from Sherlock.
extraordinary
"Extraordinary" - our narrator (Watson) looks up to him, forcing the readers to as well.
My marriage had drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.
As the text builds up to Watson and Holmes' reunification, it carefully humanizes Holmes while still placing him out of reach for readers. He reads books, yes, but also dabbles in cocaine and investigating murders. He is considered to despise other people and in many ways comes across as an outsider among society. In other words, Holmes is not relatable.
He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his.
Watson utilizes an abundance of specific and detailed prose that in some ways could serve to intimidate the reader (or at least the modern one). This language with specific relation to the complication of Holmes' character further insists that Holmes is something "other" and immediately removes most if not all readers from finding him relatable. He is not a person to find oneself in, but rather, he is a person to be observed.
Time ran on, and the eve of the execution arrived at last. Something must be done : and Jerry did it. That night he sat long in his room by himself, in the unwonted throes of literary composition. He was writing a letter–a letter of unusual length and surprising earnestness. It cost him dear, that epistle ; with his dictionary by his side, he stopped many times to think, and bit his penholder to fibre. But he wrote none the less with fiery indignation, and in a fever of moral zeal that positively astonished himself. Then he copied it out clean on a separate sheet, and folded the letter when done, with a prayer in his heart. It was a prayer for mercy on a condemned criminal–by the public hangman.After that he stuck a stamp on with trembling fingers, and posted it himself at the main office.
The letter that Stokes sends to the real murderer, the doctor, represents the most concrete action the main character is able to take and establishes his position as the story's detective. Other detectives (like Sherlock in the titular series or Vandeleur in The Sorceress of the Strand) often take action without notifying other characters or the audience. This leaves readers in suspense and helps create a new mystery for the readers on top of the main one.
“Mind you,” Jerry said to himself, as he watched the smile die away, “I don’t pretend to be as smart a chap as all these crack lawyer fellows, but I’m a straight man in my way, and I know my business. If that doctor ain’t got a murderer’s face on his front, my name isn’t Jeremiah Stokes ; that’s the long and the short of it.”
This is the first instance in which Stokes is given dialogue of sorts, and the reader is quickly able to pick up that his speech is unlike that of the rest of the text. He has a distinct voice and his dialogue sounds like a real person who might be speaking on the streets instead of being riddled with formal prose. The text purposely uses this as well as slang such as "chap" to make Stokes into a more likable character, thereby giving him more credibility. Readers who like him will be more likely to accept his intuition, even when this intuition stands on little grounds.
Stokes does spend this section focusing on the doctor's appearance; however, this is after the doctor smiles sinisterly, and as that is an action, it is not an adequate example of people's physical characteristics being used to assess their criminality.
Once only he raised his eyes and caught the other’s. It was at a critical moment. A witness for the defence, under severe cross-examination, had just admitted a most damaging fact that told hard against Ogilvy. Then the doctor smiled. It was a sinister smile, a smile of malice, a smile of mute triumph. No one else noticed it. But Jerry Stokes, looking up, observed it with a start. A shade passed over his square face like a sudden cloud. He knew that smile well. It was a typical murderer’s.
This is a clear hint for the reveal at the end of the story, and is the only distinct example that the text presents. However, this does provide some opportunity for the audience to follow along with Stokes as he tries to solve the mystery.
All night long he lay awake, and tossed and turned on his bed, and thought of Richard Ogilvy’s pale white face, as he stood there, a picture of mute agony, in the court-house. Strange thoughts surged up thick in Jerry Stokes’ soul, that had surged up in no other soul among all those actively hospital spectators. The silent suffering in the man’s grey eyes had stirred him deeply. A thousand times over, Jerry said to himself, as he tossed and turned, “That man never done it.” Now and again he dozed off, and awoke with a start, and each time he woke he found himself muttering in his sleep, with all the profound force of unreasoned conviction, “He never done it! He never done it!”
The fact that Stokes is so distraught over this perceived injustice paints his character as caring and good. This scene also represents a huge transitional point for the character as his conviction of Ogilvy's innocence grows, and it begins to disrupt his sleep, an essential part of any person's life. This disruption of his daily routine is what helps spur Stokes to take concrete action later.
For the very first time in his life, he forgot his trade. He remembered only that a human soul was at stake that day, and that in one glimpse of intuition he had seen its innocence.
This not only continues to emphasize the usage of intuition as Stokes' primary method of discovery, but it also endears him to the reader as he begins to transform from an execution-loving citizen to someone giving more attention to people as people rather than crimes.
He was a tall and delicate pale-faced man, with thoughtful grey eyes and a high white forehead. But to Jerry Stokes’ experienced gaze all that counted for nothing. He knew his patients well enough to know there are murderers and murderers–the refined and educated as well as the coarse and brutal. Why, he’d turned off square dozens of them, and both sorts, too, equally. No ; it wasn’t that–and he couldn’t say what it was–but as Richard Ogilvy answered “Not Guilty” that morning a thrill ran cold down the hangman’s back. He was sure it was true ; he felt intuitively certain of it.
This paragraph is a bit confusing as the narrator diverts from Stokes insisting that Ogilvy didn't look guilty to then reassuring readers that he doesn't base such thoughts off of looks but rather intuition. However, while intuition may be at the forefront of Stokes' certainty in Ogilvy's innocence, the text contradicts itself by using words such as "delicate" and "thoughtful" to describe the accused. "Thoughtful" in particular is not a trait able to adequately describe physical characteristics; rather, it's a subjective character trait. Therefore, it's arguable that in many aspects Stokes truly is basing his opinion off of Ogilvy's physical appearance, using that for a basis of his "intuition."
thought it curious. “Well, I never saw a murderer like him in my born days afore,” Jerry philosophised to himself. “I’ve turned off square dozens of ‘em in my time, in the province ; and I know their looks. But hanged if I’ve come across a murderer yet like this one, any way!”
Stokes often relies on the appearance of Ogilvy (the suspected murderer) when persisting of his innocence. Later, he will in fact provide reasoning that he simply knew that Ogilvy was innocent because of his looks. This followed similar Victorian thought that assumed that criminals were denoted by physical characteristics.
I
This is the only portion in the story that the omniscient narrator breaks form and speaks directly to the reader. The rest of the text unfolds naturally with little guidance from this unnamed figure, but its inclusion so early in the short story could ease readers into following Stokes' story, especially as these paragraphs continue to focus on background information regarding his character. The text is still begging readers to be interested in him and continue reading; this process is best sped along by having a middle man speak to the audience directly.
He was a short and thick-set person, very burly and dogged-looking; he had a massive, square head and a powerful lower jaw,
Here, Stokes is described as possessing physical traits that derive from normal beauty standards, particularly by being a short and larger man, almost squared. Allen chooses to place him as the hero of the story and therefore actively prescribes to the dismantling of these structures. This could speak to a wider-ranging audience compared to pieces with detectives that are chronically and conventionally attractive.
He turned first to Jerry. His lips were bloodless, and trembled as he spoke ; his throat was dry ; but in a husky voice he still managed to deliver himself of the speech that haunted him. “Your letter did it,” he said slowly, fixing his eyes on the hangman ; “I couldn’t stand that. It broke me down utterly. All night long I lay awake and knew I had sent him to the gallows in my place. It was terrible–terrible! But I wouldn’t give way : I’d made up my mind, and I meant to pull through with it. Then the morning came–the morning of the execution, and with it your letter. Till that moment I thought nobody knew but myself. I wasn’t even suspected. When I saw you knew, I could stand it no longer. You said: ‘If you let this innocent man swing in your place, I, the common hangman, will refuse to execute him. If he dies, I’ll avenge him. I’ll hound you to your grave. I’ll follow up clues till I’ve brought your crimehome to you. Don’t commit two murders instead of one. It’ll do you no good, and be worse in the end for you.’ When I read those words–those terrible words!–from the common hangman, ‘Ah, heaven!’ I thought, ‘I need try to conceal it no longer.’ All’s up now. I’ve come to confess. Thank heaven I’m in time! Sheriff, let this man go. It was I who poisoned her!”
Stokes successfully "solves" the case by sending a letter to the doctor, guilting him into confessing. Despite relying solely on intuition and the perception of people's appearances, Stokes is still an example of a detective - even if not one officially - who saves the day.
“I know it by your face,” Jerry answered sturdily ; “and I know it by the other one’s face it was him that did it.”
This represents Stokes' overall conviction: Ogilvy is innocent because he physically appears so, the doctor does not, and this is enough to certify the detective's intuition.
“but you–how do you know it?”
While many readers might perceive this to result in an explanation, they will be disappointed after reading the next sentence. This draws out the mystery's reveal, leaving the audience in suspense and forcing them to trust Stokes in regards to him knowing the truth.
A petition? Impossible!
Stokes initially considers a more civilian route through filing a formal petition to help Ogilvy, but quickly discards this as impossible, hinting that the character will take a stronger, more aggressive detective-like, stance later.
he contended himself with saying in his own dialect, “The doctor was one of ‘em.”
The stylistic choice of having Stokes speak with a distinct dialect continues, and it adds to the character's ability to stand out from others. As readers grow more familiar with his speech and mannerisms, they grow more comfortable with him and begin to trust him more.
The man in the dock was innocent, he felt sure ; but the case–why, the case was going dead against him!Slowly, as he listened, an idea began to break in upon Jerry Stokes’ mind. Ideas didn’t often come his way. He was a thick-headed man, little given to theories, and he didn’t know even now that it was a theory he was forming. He only knew this was the way the case impressed him. The prisoner at the bar had never done it. But there had been scenes in his house–scenes brought about by Mrs. Ogilvy’s conduct. Mrs. Ogilvy, he felt confident from the evidence he heard, had been given to drink–perhaps to other things ; and the prisoner, for his child’s sake (he had one little girl of three years old) was anxious to screen his wife’s shame from the public. So he had suggested but little in this direction to his counsel. The scenes, however, were not of his making, and he certainly never meant to poison the woman. Jerry Stokes watched him closely as each witness stood up and told his tale, and he was confident of so much. That twitching of the lips was no murderer’s trick. It was the plain emotion of an honest man who sees the circumstances unaccountably turning against him.
Stokes begins to consider possible alternatives based upon his intuition, showing a further shift from simply groaning at the idea of injustice towards taking concrete action on an issue.
impossible for Ogilvy to rebut such a mass of damning evidence.Everybody in court–except Jerry Stokes. And Jerry Stokes went home–for it was a two days’ trial--much concerned in soul about Richard Ogilvy.
Despite an abundance of evidence against Ogilvy, Stokes continues to believe that the man is innocent with no reasoning behind it.
And there was no one in the whole household upon whom my suspicions fixed with the exception of Ronald Odell. If my assumption that he was the thief was correct, the mystery was so far explained ; and my next step was to discover why he had robbed his father, and what he had done with the property.
The clues from earlier about the mysteriousness of Ronald combined with mentioned of slippered feet above (which he wears), should lead the reader to come to this conclusion alongside Donovan. This allows for a very smooth read for the audience as they are able to work alongside a strong detective and understand his motives.
“Oh, I don’t know. He doesn’t tell us servants his affairs. But there’s something very queer about him. I don’t like his looks at all.”
This conversation at this point is leading the reader in the direction of finding Ronald Odell to be the thief, just as it is doing so for Donovan.
Whereupon the Colonel looked more than surprised, and proceeded to rattle off a string of questions with the object of learning why I spoke so decisively. But I was compelled to tell him that I could give him no reason, for though I had worked out a theory which intuitively I believed to be right, I had not at that moment a shred of acceptable proof in support of my theory, and that therefore I could not commit myself to raising suspicions against anyone until I was prepared to do something more than justify them.
While Donovan admittedly relies on appearances of people when using certain judgements, he also admits that it is not enough evidence to convict someone of a crime, and in this way he differs from Stokes. Rather, Donovan relies on his intuition to guide him while still looking for concrete evidence.
The Colonel was most anxious that I should do this, and, requesting him to wait for a few minutes, I retired to my inner sanctum, and when I reappeared it was in the character of a venerable parson, with flowing grey hair, spectacles, and the orthodox white choker. My visitor did not recognise me until I spoke, and then he requested to know why I had transformed myself in such a manner. I told him I had a particular reason for it, but felt it was advisable not to reveal the reason then, and I enjoined on him the necessity of supporting me in the character I had assumed, for I considered it important that none of his household should know that I was a detective. I begged that he would introduce me as the Rev. John Marshall, from the Midland Counties. He promised to do this, and we took the next train down to Esher.
Here, Donovan is matching with Holmes quite well. Similar to Holmes, Donovan is able to dress up and change his image for the reader; however, his first person perspective makes this much more personable. Unlike Holmes, Donovan is not an unknowable, constantly changing person.
Donovan also matches Holmes in his sense of refusing to reveal his intentions, and likewise this is kept hidden for the Colonel. However, he does not hide any of this information from the reader, allowing them to understand what is going on in the same way he does.
My object in asking the question was to see if he suspected in any way the existence of a secret door ; but it was now very obvious that he did nothing of the kind, and I did not deem it advisable to tell him of my own suspicions.
Once again, Donovan leads the reader through his exploratory process and keeps out not them but the other characters from his thoughts. This allows them to be in on the secret alongside the narrator and help solve the mystery as an equal.
I smiled as I told him I made a study of the various characters I was called upon to assume in pursuit of my calling, and that I was generally able to talk the character as well as dress it.
This may appear as a small anecdote, but it suggests that Donovan has several characters and actively researchers their knowledge, mannerisms, etc. to learn a little about them all, an impressive feat.
“No,” drawled the young fellow, “there isn’t a detective fellow in London capable of finding out how that skull was stolen, and where it has been taken to. Not even Dick Donovan, who is said to have no rival in his line.”
This portion of the text addresses both Donovan's fame and serves to hint at Ronald Odell's crime. The former is obvious and reveals the reader just how respected Donovan is to boost their respective of the character at the same time. In terms of the crime, Ronald Odell may appear unnecessarily pessimistic when questioned, especially due to the fact that his father is sitting distraught next to him.
and seemed to suffer from an unconquerable lassitude that gave him a lifeless, insipid appearance.
Unlike the other characters, Ronald Odell receives several negative physical characteristics as remarked by the narrator, which in the Victorian era may have notified them that something was amiss as they tended to associate physical features against beauty standards to be markers of criminals.
The butler was an elderly, sedate, gentlemanly-looking man ; the boy had an open, frank face, and the same remark applied to the two girls.
Here, Donovan is yet again relying on the physical appearances of people to determine their intentions and/or possible inclinations towards crime. It is simply him, like Stokes, relying on his intuition.
The Colonel assured me that the door of this room was always kept locked, and the key was never out of his possession. The lower part of the chimney of the old-fashioned fireplace I noticed was protected by iron bars let into the masonry, so that the thief, I was sure, did not come down the chimney ; nor did he come in at the window, for it only opened at each side, and the apertures were so small that a child could not have squeezed through. Having noted these things, I hinted to the Colonel that the thief had probably gained access to the room by means of a duplicate key. But he hastened to assure me that the lock was of a singular construction, having been specially made. There were only two keys to it. One he always carried about with him, the other he kept in a secret drawer in an old escritoire in his library, and he was convinced that nobody knew of its existence. He explained the working of the lock, and also showed me the key, which was the most remarkable key I ever saw ; and, after examining the lock, I came to the conclusion that it could not be opened by any means apart from the special key. Nevertheless the thief had succeeded in getting into the room. How did he manage it?
This chunk follows Donovan's thought process as he tries to figure out how the thief entered the treasure room, allowing the reader to easily follow along with what the answer could not be. They are therefore left with roughly the same information as Donovan and capable of coming up with their own conclusions.
As it seemed to me a somewhat frivolous matter for the Colonel to take up my time because he had lost the mouldy old skull of a dead and gone Rajah, I said, “Excuse me, Colonel, but you can hardly expect me to devote my energies to tracing this somewhat gruesome souvenir of yours, which probably the thief will hasten to bury as speedily as possible, unless he happens to be of a very morbid turn of mind.”
Though earlier Donovan does appear to be fierce and collected, this moment serves to humanize the detective for the reader. Although in many ways Donovan does appear to retain the fame of Holmes, he does not encompass an all-intelligent superiority compared to the reader. In fact, this moment marks a mistake on behalf of the detective as he jumps to conclusions before he understands the facts, exactly what detectives should NOT do. This paints him as more human, competent but capable of mistakes.
And as I glanced at his well-marked face, with its powerful jaw, I came to the conclusion that he was a martinet of the old-fashioned type, who, in the name of discipline, could perpetrate almost any cruelty ; and yet, on the other hand, when not under military influence, was capable of the most generous acts and deeds. He was faultlessly dressed, from his patent leather boots to his canary-coloured kid gloves. But though, judging from his dress, he was somewhat of a coxcomb, a glance at the hard, stern feature and the keen, deep-set grey eyes, was sufficient to dispel any idea that he was a mere carpet soldier.
Donovan marks himself here as someone who places a great emphasis on appearances when it comes to drawing conclusions, as he decides a large portion of the Colonel's personality simply based upon his face.
“I thought I told you not to disturb me under any circumstances,” I replied, somewhat tartly.
Already, the narrator (Dick Donovan) is established as being a man of high importance. He has an assistance that waits on him, and Donovan insists the he must remain unbothered due to the amount of work on his hands.
Once only he raised his eyes and caught the other’s. It was at a critical moment. A witness for the defence, under severe cross-examination, had just admitted a most damaging fact that told hard against Ogilvy. Then the doctor smiled. It was a sinister smile, a smile of malice, a smile of mute triumph. No one else noticed it. But Jerry Stokes, looking up, observed it with a start. A shade passed over his square face like a sudden cloud. He knew that smile well. It was a typical murderer’s.
This is a clear hint for the reveal at the end of the story, and is the only distinct example present in the story. However, this does provide some opportunity for the audience to follow along with Stokes as he tries to solve the mystery.
He turned first to Jerry. His lips were bloodless, and trembled as he spoke ; his throat was dry ; but in a husky voice he still managed to deliver himself of the speech that haunted him. “Your letter did it,” he said slowly, fixing his eyes on the hangman ; “I couldn’t stand that. It broke me down utterly. All night long I lay awake and knew I had sent him to the gallows in my place. It was terrible–terrible! But I wouldn’t give way : I’d made up my mind, and I meant to pull through with it. Then the morning came–the morning of the execution, and with it your letter. Till that moment I thought nobody knew but myself. I wasn’t even suspected. When I saw you knew, I could stand it no longer. You said: ‘If you let this innocent man swing in your place, I, the common hangman, will refuse to execute him. If he dies, I’ll avenge him. I’ll hound you to your grave. I’ll follow up clues till I’ve brought your crimehome to you. Don’t commit two murders instead of one. It’ll do you no good, and be worse in the end for you.’ When I read those words–those terrible words!–from the common hangman, ‘Ah, heaven!’ I thought, ‘I need try to conceal it no longer.’ All’s up now. I’ve come to confess. Thank heaven I’m in time! Sheriff, let this man go. It was I who poisoned her!”
Stokes successfully "solves" the case by sending a letter to the doctor, guilting him into confessing. Despite relying solely on intuition and the perception of people's appearances, Stokes is still an example of a detective - even if not one officially - who saves the day.
“but you–how do you know it?”
While many readers might perceive this to result in an explanation, they will be disappointed after reading the next sentence. This draws out the mystery's reveal, leaving the audience in suspense and forcing them to trust Stokes in regards to him knowing the truth.
“I know it by your face,” Jerry answered sturdily ; “and I know it by the other one’s face it was him that did it.”
This represents Stokes' overall conviction: Ogilvy is innocent because he physically appears so, the doctor does not, and this is enough to certify the detective's intuition.
Time ran on, and the eve of the execution arrived at last. Something must be done : and Jerry did it. That night he sat long in his room by himself, in the unwonted throes of literary composition. He was writing a letter–a letter of unusual length and surprising earnestness. It cost him dear, that epistle ; with his dictionary by his side, he stopped many times to think, and bit his penholder to fibre. But he wrote none the less with fiery indignation, and in a fever of moral zeal that positively astonished himself. Then he copied it out clean on a separate sheet, and folded the letter when done, with a prayer in his heart. It was a prayer for mercy on a condemned criminal–by the public hangman.After that he stuck a stamp on with trembling fingers, and posted it himself at the main office.
The letter that Stokes sends to the real murderer, the doctor, represents the most concrete action the main character is able to take and establishes his position as the story's detective. Other detectives (like Sherlock in the titular series of Vandeleur in The Sorceress of the Strand) often take action without notifying other characters or the audience. This leaves readers in suspense and helps create a new mystery for the readers on top of the main one.
A petition? Impossible!
Stokes initially considers a more civilian route through filing a formal petition to help Ogilvy, but quickly discards this as impossible, hinting that the character will take a stronger, more aggressive detective-like, stance later.
he contended himself with saying in his own dialect, “The doctor was one of ‘em.”
The stylistic choice of having Stokes speak with a distinct dialect continues, and it adds to the character's ability to stand out from others. As readers grow more familiar with his speech and mannerisms, they grow more comfortable with him and begin to trust him more.
“Mind you,” Jerry said to himself, as he watched the smile die away, “I don’t pretend to be as smart a chap as all these crack lawyer fellows, but I’m a straight man in my way, and I know my business. If that doctor ain’t got a murderer’s face on his front, my name isn’t Jeremiah Stokes ; that’s the long and the short of it.”
This is the first instance in which Stokes is given dialogue of sorts, and the reader is quickly able to pick up that his speech is unlike that of the rest of the text. He has a distinct voice and his dialogue sounds like a real person who might be speaking on the streets instead of being riddled with formal prose. The text purposely uses this as well as slang such as "chap" to make Stokes into a more likable character, thereby giving him more credibility. Readers who like him will be more likely to accept his intuition, even when this intuition stands on little grounds.
Stokes does spend this section focusing on the doctor's appearance; however, this is after the doctor smiles sinisterly, and as that is an action then it is not an adequate example of people's physical characteristics being utilized to assess their criminality.
The man in the dock was innocent, he felt sure ; but the case–why, the case was going dead against him!Slowly, as he listened, an idea began to break in upon Jerry Stokes’ mind. Ideas didn’t often come his way. He was a thick-headed man, little given to theories, and he didn’t know even now that it was a theory he was forming. He only knew this was the way the case impressed him. The prisoner at the bar had never done it. But there had been scenes in his house–scenes brought about by Mrs. Ogilvy’s conduct. Mrs. Ogilvy, he felt confident from the evidence he heard, had been given to drink–perhaps to other things ; and the prisoner, for his child’s sake (he had one little girl of three years old) was anxious to screen his wife’s shame from the public. So he had suggested but little in this direction to his counsel. The scenes, however, were not of his making, and he certainly never meant to poison the woman. Jerry Stokes watched him closely as each witness stood up and told his tale, and he was confident of so much. That twitching of the lips was no murderer’s trick. It was the plain emotion of an honest man who sees the circumstances unaccountably turning against him.
Stokes begins to consider possible alternatives based upon his intuition, showing a further shift from simply groaning at the idea of injustice towards taking concrete action on an issue.
All night long he lay awake, and tossed and turned on his bed, and thought of Richard Ogilvy’s pale white face, as he stood there, a picture of mute agony, in the court-house. Strange thoughts surged up thick in Jerry Stokes’ soul, that had surged up in no other soul among all those actively hospital spectators. The silent suffering in the man’s grey eyes had stirred him deeply. A thousand times over, Jerry said to himself, as he tossed and turned, “That man never done it.” Now and again he dozed off, and awoke with a start, and each time he woke he found himself muttering in his sleep, with all the profound force of unreasoned conviction, “He never done it! He never done it!”
The fact that Stokes is so distraught over this perceived injustice paints his character as caring and good. This scene also represents a huge transitional point for the character as his conviction of Ogilvy's innocence grows and it begins to disrupt his sleep, an essential part of any person's life. This disruption of his daily routine is what helps spur Stokes to take concrete action later.
impossible for Ogilvy to rebut such a mass of damning evidence.Everybody in court–except Jerry Stokes. And Jerry Stokes went home–for it was a two days’ trial--much concerned in soul about Richard Ogilvy.
Despite an abundance of evidence against Ogilvy, Stokes continues to believe that the man is innocent with no reasoning behind it.
For the very first time in his life, he forgot his trade. He remembered only that a human soul was at stake that day, and that in one glimpse of intuition he had seen its innocence.
This not only continues to emphasize the usage of intuition as Stokes' primary method of discovery, but it also endears him to the reader as he begins to transform from an execution-loving citizen to someone giving more attention to people as people rather than crimes.
He was a tall and delicate pale-faced man, with thoughtful grey eyes and a high white forehead. But to Jerry Stokes’ experienced gaze all that counted for nothing. He knew his patients well enough to know there are murderers and murderers–the refined and educated as well as the coarse and brutal. Why, he’d turned off square dozens of them, and both sorts, too, equally. No ; it wasn’t that–and he couldn’t say what it was–but as Richard Ogilvy answered “Not Guilty” that morning a thrill ran cold down the hangman’s back. He was sure it was true ; he felt intuitively certain of it.
This paragraph is a bit confusing as the narrator diverts from Stokes insisting that Ogilvy didn't look guilty to then reassuring readers that he doesn't base such thoughts off of looks but rather intuition. However, while intuition may be at the forefront of Stokes' certainty in Ogilvy's innocence, the text contradicts itself by utilizing words such as "delicate" and "thoughtful" to describe the accused. "Thoughtful" in particular is not a trait able to adequately describe physical characteristics; rather, it's a subjective character trait. Therefore, it's arguable that in many aspects Stokes truly is basing his opinion off of Ogilvy's physical appearance, using that for a basis of his "intuition."
thought it curious. “Well, I never saw a murderer like him in my born days afore,” Jerry philosophised to himself. “I’ve turned off square dozens of ‘em in my time, in the province ; and I know their looks. But hanged if I’ve come across a murderer yet like this one, any way!”
Stokes often relies on the appearance of Ogilvy (the suspected murderer) when persisting on his innocence. Later, he will in fact provide reasoning that he simply knew that Ogilvy was innocent because of his looks. This followed similar Victorian thought that assumed that criminals had certain criminal characteristics.
I
This is the only portion in the story that the omniscient narrator breaks form and speaks directly to the reader. The rest of the text unfolds naturally with little guidance from this unnamed figure, but perhaps its inclusion so early in the short story could ease readers into following Stokes' story, especially as these paragraphs continue to focus on background information regarding his character. The text is still begging readers to be interested in him and continue reading; this process is best sped along by having a middle man speak to the audience directly.
He was a short and thick-set person, very burly and dogged-looking; he had a massive, square head and a powerful lower jaw,
Here, Stokes is described possessing physical traits that derive from normal beauty standards, particularly by being a short and larger man, almost squared. Allen chooses to place him as the hero of the story and therefore actively prescribes to the dismantling of these structures. This could speak to a wider-ranging audience compared to pieces with detectives that are chronically conventionally attractive.
“What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?”
This is one of the few instances that Holmes is described as anything other than cool and confident. This change in demeanor represents a shift in the plot as it begins to wrap up, and also describes Holmes' interest in Irene Adler as the the woman. She successfully outsmarted (or at least surprised) the man supposed to be incomparable to any other person.
“I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”
With the readers following Sherlock throughout this text, his lack of knowledge on the subject results in just as much uncertainty within the reader. As there is a lack of clues to go off of, they cannot even begin to deduce who that individual may be.
And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring another.
Though now his role in the scenario makes sense, Watson did initially agree to participate without any context, and that required a high level of trust within Holmes. As Watson was created as a bridge between readers and Holmes, we too are meant to trust Holmes.
He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.
Sherlock, after just returning in a groom costume, now transforms into a clergyman and is here on out meant to be understood by other characters as being one. This is part of Sherlock's control over the story, giving readers no choice not only to rely on him for mental explanations but also to change the very core of his character, that of which for many characters remain stagnant: his physical appearance.
“Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. ‘I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,’ she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements.”
The reader (and Watson) have just received a large wall of text regarding Holmes adventures without being present at all. Rather, the audience and narrator are relying on Holmes to gain any understanding of what the plot is, placing Holmes in a position of power. The reader cannot grasp anything without his explanations.
“You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come what may. You understand?”
Sherlock has just relayed a series of oddities related to the case and now moves into concrete actions he has taken without notice from either Watson or the reader. Rather, the information is being relayed back with no real explanation. The only knowledge the reader has is that of Watson's tasks, but not what it might involve as the text lacks details. This means the reader is unable to follow what is going on but is rather throw into the mix and the whims of Holmes in the same way that Watson is.
as I expected,
Holmes often uses short phrases such as this one to emphasize that he knew what would happen all along. With his intelligence, he is almost able to see in the future, something no other human is able to do.
Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head.
This is yet another example of Watson praising Holmes and another example of his perspective shifting into tight, sharp words in order to give Holmes a layer of sophistication and intelligence beyond the average person.
“Oh, then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present.
Holmes is cocky here, already dismissing this supposedly very important case against a few other issues he's also tackling. There is no evidence her to suggest that he is joking or playing up the workload he already has, so the audience is meant to assume that this is how he normally works.
“I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes.Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client.“If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, “I should be better able to advise you.”
Though his visitor just arrived, Holmes slips into disinterest as he already know the information that his client believes he is revealing for the first time. Despite establishing that his identity is meant to be secret, Holmes is quick to deduce that the King of Bohemia is the true name of his client with few indicators as to how this would be.
endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes
Watson clearly holds admiration for Sherlock, the same admiration that readers are meant to share.
I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I remarked, “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours.”
This is one of the clearest examples of Watson being used as a self-insert for the reader. While he is allowed to possess certain qualities that may not apply to everyone, such as being married or a doctor, his voice is often meant to reflect the thoughts of readers. Immediately after receiving a largescale explanation from Holmes, the detective that readers are not meant to follow, Watson admits that he's "baffled" until the process is explain but that it all adds up together in the end. He also finishes with "And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours," applicable to the separation that readers feel from Sherlock.
“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”“Seven!” I answered.“Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness.”“Then, how do you know?”“I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?”“My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out.”He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together.“It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession.”
This entire process represents three feats by Holmes: 1. Watson gained weight 2. Watson returned to the medical profession 3. Watson has a servant who is terrible at her job.
Holmes fires this information off rapidly, receiving confirmations from Watson, and replies that "'It is simplicity itself.'" He then goes into detailing his reasoning, siting information such as the amount of cuts on leather and a bulge on the right side of Watson's top hat. None of these facts are given to the reader at any point, and so there is no way for the reader to follow along with these explanations beyond putting faith in Holmes. The text, in fact, makes it impossible to read without trusting him and his prowress.
Additionally, these observations that are mentioned are ones that it is unlikely many would notice; or, at least, no one would notice all of these facts at once and come to such a breezy, rapid-fire set of conclusions. This depicts Holmes as being beyond intelligent, and further establishes his credibility to the reader as well as the awe that the audience is supposed to hold for him.
extraordinary
"Extraordinary" - our narrator (Watson) looks up to him, forcing the readers to as well.
My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.
As the text builds up to Watson and Holmes' reunification, it carefully humanizes Holmes while still placing him out of reach for readers. He reads books, yes, but also dabbles in cocaine and investigating murders. He is considered to despise other people and in many ways comes across as an outsider among society. In other words, Holmes is not relatable.
He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his.
Watson utilizes an abundance of specific and detailed prose that in some ways could serve to intimidate the reader (or at least the modern one). This language with specific relation to the complication of Holmes' character further insists that Holmes is something "other" and immediately removes most if not all readers from finding him relatable. He is not a person to find oneself in, but rather, he is a person to be observed.
All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind.
Within the first few sentences, Watson describes Holmes as if he is nonhuman. Rather than be warm and open, he is "cold" and "precise." However, this is not meant to be viewed negatively but rather instates Holmes as someone admirable. Already, it establishes his character as someone far above Watson and therefore far above the reader.