The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet

           "Holmes,"saidIasIstoodonemorninginourbow-windowlookingdownthestreet,"hereisamadmancomingalong. Itseemsrathersadthathisrelativesshouldallowhimtocomeoutalone." 

           Myfriendroselazilyfromhisarmchairandstoodwithhishandsinthepocketsofhisdressing-gown,lookingovermyshoulder. Itwasabright,crispFebruarymorning,andthesnowofthedaybeforestilllaydeepupontheground,shimmeringbrightlyinthewintrysun. DownthecentreofBakerStreetithadbeenploughedintoabrowncrumblybandbythetraffic,butateithersideandontheheaped-upedgesofthefoot-pathsitstilllayaswhiteaswhenitfell. Thegraypavementhadbeencleanedandscraped,butwasstilldangerouslyslippery,sothattherewerefewerpassengersthanusual. Indeed,fromthedirectionoftheMetropolitanStationnoonewascomingsavethesinglegentlemanwhoseeccentricconducthaddrawnmyattention. 

           Hewasamanofaboutfifty,tall,portly,andimposing,withamassive,stronglymarkedfaceandacommandingfigure. Hewasdressedinasombreyetrichstyle,inblackfrock-coat,shininghat,neatbrowngaiters,andwell-cutpearl-graytrousers. Yethisactionswereinabsurdcontrasttothedignityofhisdressandfeatures,forhewasrunninghard,withoccasionallittlesprings,suchasawearymangiveswhoislittleaccustomedtosetanytaxuponhislegs. Asheranhejerkedhishandsupanddown,waggledhishead,andwrithedhisfaceintothemostextraordinarycontortions. 

           "Whatonearthcanbethematterwithhim?"Iasked. "Heislookingupatthenumbersofthehouses." 

           "Ibelievethatheiscominghere,"saidHolmes,rubbinghishands. 

           "Here?"