Red Széll

I asked.

None, but he was an Englishman, though of an unusual type.

A savage, said I, linking my facts after the fashion of my illustrious friend.

Exactly.

That describes him very well.

He is a bulky, bearded, sunburned fellow who looks as if he would be more at home in a farmer's inn than in a fashionable hotel.

A hard, fierce man, I should think, and one whom I should be sorry to offend.

Already the mystery began to define itself as figures grow clearer with the lifting of a fog.

Here was this good and pious lady pursued from place to place by a sinister and unrelenting figure.

She feared him or she would not have fled from Lausanne.

He had still followed.

Sooner or later he would overtake her.

Had he already overtaken her?

Was that the secret of her continued silence?

Could the good people who were her companions not screen her from his violence or his blackmail?

What horrible purpose, what deep design lay behind this long pursuit?

there was the problem which I had to solve.

To Holmes I wrote showing how rapidly and surely I had got down to the roots of the matter.

In reply, I had a telegram asking for a description of Dr Schlesinger's left ear.

Holmes's ideas of humour are strange and occasionally offensive, so I took no notice of his ill-timed jest.