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Readded tinytrain.txt and tinyvalid.txt files
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batzner committed Aug 30, 2017
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CHAPTER I
Mr. Sherlock Holmes


In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the
University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the
course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my
studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland
Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India
at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had
broken out. On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had
advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy's
country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in
the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Candahar in
safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new
duties.

The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had
nothing but misfortune and disaster. I was removed from my brigade
and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal
battle of Maiwand. There I was struck on the shoulder by a Jezail
bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. I
should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not
been for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who
threw me across a pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to
the British lines.

Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had
undergone, I was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, to
the base hospital at Peshawar. Here I rallied, and had already
improved so far as to be able to walk about the wards, and even to
bask a little upon the verandah, when I was struck down by enteric
fever, that curse of our Indian possessions. For months my life was
despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became
convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated that a medical board
determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to
England. I was dispatched, accordingly, in the troopship Orontes, and
landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my health
irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a paternal government
to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it.

I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as
air--or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day
will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances, I naturally
gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers
and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. There I stayed for
some time at a private hotel in the Strand, leading a comfortless,
meaningless existence, and spending such money as I had, considerably
more freely than I ought. So alarming did the state of my finances
become, that I soon realized that I must either leave the metropolis
and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that I must make a
complete alteration in my style of living. Choosing the latter
alternative, I began by making up my mind to leave the hotel, and to
take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less expensive
domicile.

On the very day that I had come to this conclusion, I was standing at
the Criterion Bar, when some one tapped me on the shoulder, and
turning round I recognized young Stamford, who had been a dresser
under me at Bart's. The sight of a friendly face in the great
wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man. In
old days Stamford had never been a particular crony of mine, but now
I hailed him with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn, appeared to be
delighted to see me. In the exuberance of my joy, I asked him to
lunch with me at the Holborn, and we started off together in a
hansom.

"Whatever have you been doing with yourself, Watson?" he asked in
undisguised wonder, as we rattled through the crowded London streets.
"You are as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut."

I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and had hardly concluded
it by the time that we reached our destination.

"Poor devil!" he said, commiseratingly, after he had listened to my
misfortunes. "What are you up to now?"

"Looking for lodgings," I answered. "Trying to solve the problem as
to whether it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable
price."

"That's a strange thing," remarked my companion; "you are the second
man to-day that has used that expression to me."

"And who was the first?" I asked.

"A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the
hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not
get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had
found, and which were too much for his purse."

"By Jove!" I cried, "if he really wants someone to share the rooms
and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a
partner to being alone."

Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over his wine-glass.
"You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet," he said; "perhaps you would not
care for him as a constant companion."

"Why, what is there against him?"

"Oh, I didn't say there was anything against him. He is a little
queer in his ideas--an enthusiast in some branches of science. As far
as I know he is a decent fellow enough."

"A medical student, I suppose?" said I.

"No--I have no idea what he intends to go in for. I believe he is
well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist; but, as far as I
know, he has never taken out any systematic medical classes. His
studies are very desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of
out-of-the way knowledge which would astonish his professors."

"Did you never ask him what he was going in for?" I asked.

"No; he is not a man that it is easy to draw out, though he can be
communicative enough when the fancy seizes him."

"I should like to meet him," I said. "If I am to lodge with anyone, I
should prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. I am not strong
enough yet to stand much noise or excitement. I had enough of both in
Afghanistan to last me for the remainder of my natural existence. How
could I meet this friend of yours?"

"He is sure to be at the laboratory," returned my companion. "He
either avoids the place for weeks, or else he works there from
morning to night. If you like, we shall drive round together after
luncheon."

"Certainly," I answered, and the conversation drifted away into other
channels.

As we made our way to the hospital after leaving the Holborn,
Stamford gave me a few more particulars about the gentleman whom I
proposed to take as a fellow-lodger.

"You mustn't blame me if you don't get on with him," he said; "I know
nothing more of him than I have learned from meeting him occasionally
in the laboratory. You proposed this arrangement, so you must not
hold me responsible."

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In the morning Holmes discovered that we had come without our
spoon-bait for jack, which absolved us from fishing for the day.
About eleven o'clock we started for a walk, and he obtained leave to
take the black spaniel with us.

"This is the place," said he as we came to two high park gates with
heraldic griffins towering above them. "About midday, Mr. Barnes
informs me, the old lady takes a drive, and the carriage must slow
down while the gates are opened. When it comes through, and before it
gathers speed, I want you, Watson, to stop the coachman with some
question. Never mind me. I shall stand behind this holly-bush and see
what I can see."

It was not a long vigil. Within a quarter of an hour we saw the big
open yellow barouche coming down the long avenue, with two splendid,
high-stepping gray carriage horses in the shafts. Holmes crouched
behind his bush with the dog. I stood unconcernedly swinging a cane
in the roadway. A keeper ran out and the gates swung open.

The carriage had slowed to a walk, and I was able to get a good look
at the occupants. A highly coloured young woman with flaxen hair and
impudent eyes sat on the left. At her right was an elderly person
with rounded back and a huddle of shawls about her face and shoulders
which proclaimed the invalid. When the horses reached the highroad I
held up my hand with an authoritative gesture, and as the coachman
pulled up I inquired if Sir Robert was at Shoscombe Old Place.

At the same moment Holmes stepped out and released the spaniel. With
a joyous cry it dashed forward to the carriage and sprang upon the
step. Then in a moment its eager greeting changed to furious rage,
and it snapped at the black skirt above it.

"Drive on! Drive on!" shrieked a harsh voice. The coachman lashed the
horses, and we were left standing in the roadway.

"Well, Watson, that's done it," said Holmes as he fastened the lead
to the neck of the excited spaniel. "He thought it was his mistress,
and he found it was a stranger. Dogs don't make mistakes."

"But it was the voice of a man!" I cried.

"Exactly! We have added one card to our hand, Watson, but it needs
careful playing, all the same."

My companion seemed to have no further plans for the day, and we did
actually use our fishing tackle in the mill-stream, with the result
that we had a dish of trout for our supper. It was only after that
meal that Holmes showed signs of renewed activity. Once more we found
ourselves upon the same road as in the morning, which led us to the
park gates. A tall, dark figure was awaiting us there, who proved to
be our London acquaintance, Mr. John Mason, the trainer.

"Good-evening, gentlemen," said he. "I got your note, Mr. Holmes. Sir
Robert has not returned yet, but I hear that he is expected
to-night."

"How far is this crypt from the house?" asked Holmes.

"A good quarter of a mile."

"Then I think we can disregard him altogether."

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