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"Laugh as much as you please, monsieur," said Father Gelis, "but I am confident the solution is contained in those two sentences, and some day we will find a man able to interpret them." "Sherlock Holmes is the man," said Mon. Devanne, "unless Arsene Lupin gets ahead of him. What is your opinion, Velmont?"
I think that I must have been rather overacting my delight, and that she detected a hollow ring in my congratulations, for I saw her eyebrows rise a little, and she glanced at me curiously. "If I have it," said she, "I owe it to you." "No, no," I answered, "not to me, but to my friend Sherlock Holmes.
"Behold Sherlock Holmes and his friend Dr. Watson about to solve the Mystery of the Shadowed Sophomore." "You've saved my life," said Mildred, feelingly. "Don't forget. Right after chapel, by the lake." She peered warily out through the branches. "I've got to get the keys to the gymnasium, so the refreshments can be put in during chapel. Do you see anybody lurking about?
"I wonder what became of 'Peter Rabbit'?" remarked Anne, when, later in the evening, a number of Semper Fidelis girls gathered in one corner of the room to hold an informal session and compare notes. "Who is 'Peter Rabbit'; or, the Mystery of the 'Blue Jacket'?" declaimed Emma Dean. "Even Sherlock is all at sea, aren't you, Brother Holmes?"
The writer says: "At his last term in Cleveland we happened in while he was pronouncing sentence upon a number of criminals who had been convicted during the week, of penitentiary offenses. Sherlock J. Andrews. Judge Andrews was born November, 1801, in the quiet New England village of Wallingford, Connecticut.
"Are you talking of very interesting things?" she asked, coming toward the fire. "I hear you are going for a cruise with Mrs. Shiffney," said Claude, uneasily. "I believe I am. It would be rather nice to get out of this weather. But you don't mind it." "How can you know that?" "It's very simple, almost as simple as some of Sherlock Holmes's deductions.
I tell you what: some one has roused the house and asked shelter from the storm. Now, who could that be but Penelope?" "By Jove, you're a ripping clever ass, after all, Barminster a regular Sherlock Holmes. That's just it! She's up there where the windows are. Come on! It's easy sailing now," cried his lordship, but the duke restrained him. "Don't rush off like a fool. Whose house is it?"
'So should I, Mr Inspector, or in the hands of Sherlock Holmes. Bless me, Tinkler, they'd do almost as much as you have done. It is a pity that you are not a character in fiction, Tinkler. 'Why, sir? Why, may I ask? 'Because your author might have touched you up in weak parts, and have gifted you with some brains. Good-day, Mr Inspector.
At the same time these unhappy men were under sentence of death, Alexander Jones, John Platt, Mary Reynolds, Silvia Sherlock and Anne Senior were also condemned for several offences, and as is but too common with persons in their condition, all of them entertained strong notions of reprieves or pardons, so that when the death warrant came down, and these three found themselves ordered for execution, they were not a little surprised.
"Well, you see," I apologized, "I knew you were a nailer at that sort of thing, or you would never have got to Mecca, and earned your green turban. I knew you'd been pretty often called upon to disguise yourself and go about among the natives for one thing or another. And besides, we were chums before you had the shadow of a moustache, so I have an advantage over the other Sherlock Holmeses!
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