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Page 91
"Good-evening, doctor," said Holmes, cheerily. "I am
glad to see that you have only been waiting a very few
minutes."
"You spoke to my coachman, then?"
"No, it was the candle on the side-table that told me.
Pray resume your seat and let me know how I can serve
you."
"My name is Doctor Percy Trevelyan," said our visitor,
"and I live at 403 Brook Street."
"Are you not the author of a monograph upon obscure
nervous lesions?" I asked.
His pale cheeks flushed with pleasure at hearing that
his work was known to me.
"I so seldom hear of the work that I thought it was
quite dead," said he. "My publishers gave me a most
discouraging account of its sale. You are yourself, I
presume, a medical man?"
"A retired army surgeon."
"My own hobby has always been nervous disease. I
should wish to make it an absolute specialty, but, of
course, a man must take what he can get at first.
This, however, is beside the question, Mr. Sherlock
Holmes, and I quite appreciate how valuable your time
is. The fact is that a very singular train of events
has occurred recently at my house in Brook Street, and
to-night they came to such a head that I felt it was
quite impossible for me to wait another hour before
asking for your advice and assistance."
Sherlock Holmes sat down and lit his pipe. "You are
very welcome to both," said he. "Pray let me have a
detailed account of what the circumstances are which
have disturbed you."
"One or two of them are so trivial," said Dr.
Trevelyan, "that really I am almost ashamed to mention
them. But the matter is so inexplicable, and the
recent turn which it has taken is so elaborate, that I
shall lay it all before you, and you shall judge what
is essential and what is not.
"I am compelled, to begin with, to say something of my
own college career. I am a London University man, you
know, and I am sure that your will not think that I am
unduly singing my own praises if I say that my student
career was considered by my professors to be a very
promising one. After I had graduated I continued to
devote myself to research, occupying a minor position
in King's College Hospital, and I was fortunate enough
to excite considerable interest by my research into
the pathology of catalepsy, and finally to win the
Bruce Pinkerton prize and medal by the monograph on
nervous lesions to which your friend has just alluded.
I should not go too far if I were to say that there
was a general impression at that time that a
distinguished career lay before me.
"But the one great stumbling-block lay in my want of
capital. As you will readily understand, a specialist
who aims high is compelled to start in one of a dozen
streets in the Cavendish Square quarter, all of which
entail enormous rents and furnishing expenses.
Besides this preliminary outlay, he must be prepared
to keep himself for some years, and to hire a
presentable carriage and horse. To do this was quite
beyond my power, and I could only hope that by economy
I might in ten years' time save enough to enable me to
put up my plate. Suddenly, however, an unexpected
incident opened up quite a new prospect to me.
"This was a visit from a gentleman of the name of
Blessington, who was a complete stranger to me. He
came up to my room one morning, and plunged into
business in an instant.
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