2 The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle Two days after Christmas, I decided to visit Sherlock Holmes. I wanted to wish him a merry Christmas. When I arrived at Baker Street, I found my friend resting on the sofa. Next to him, an old, worn, dirty hat was slouched over the back of a chair. I saw a magnifying glass sitting on a nearby table. "I suppose this hat has something to do with a crime?" I asked. "No, my dear Watson," answered Holmes.

"Not a crime. Just one of those odd little events that take place in a large city like London. I received the hat on Christmas morning from a policeman named Peterson. He told me he was walking home on Christmas Eve when he saw a man wearing this hat and carrying a goose over his shoulder." "No doubt for his Christmas dinner," I said. "No doubt, Watson," Holmes replied. "Peterson then explained that a group of thugs appeared and began to bother the man. They pushed him and knocked off his hat. The man tried to defend himself by swinging his cane and accidentally broke a store window. "That's when Peterson ran to help the poor stranger. When the gang saw Peterson coming, they ran. But their victim ran, too.

The old man must have thought Peterson would arrest him for breaking the window. "And so the officer was left with the hat and the goose. A piece of paper was tied to the bird. It read: 'For Mrs. Henry Baker.' And the initials 'H. B.' are on the hat. But there must be hundreds of Henry Bakers in London. It would be impossible to find the right Henry Baker and return his hat and goose to him. "Peterson knows that I am interested in even the smallest problem," said Holmes. "So he brought the items to me. Since I couldn't keep the goose forever, Peterson came back and took it for his dinner tonight. Meanwhile, I have been learning about the stranger by studying his hat." "But what can you possibly learn from examining a hat?" I exclaimed. "You know how I work, Watson," Holmes

replied. "Here is my magnifying glass. You tell me what you can discover about our stranger." I took the hat and looked it over. It was an ordinary black hat, but it had become worn with age. The red silk lining was faded. I saw the initials "H. B." inside. There were holes in the brim for an elastic band to hold the hat on the wearer's head. But the elastic was missing. The hat was cracked, dusty, and had worn spots all over it. Someone had colored the spots with ink.

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"I can see nothing," I said, handing the hat back to my friend. "On the contrary, Watson. You see everything. But you don't understand the meaning of what you see." "Then what can you tell me about the hat's owner?" I asked. Holmes explained, "Three years ago the owner was a fairly wealthy man. But since then, he has become much poorer. He was a careful person, but isn't anymore. Something has caused these changes. Perhaps he is gambling. This may be why his wife no longer loves him. "Despite all this, our stranger is still careful about his appearance. But he doesn't go out much. He is middle-aged and not in the best of health. He has gray hair, cut within the last few days, to which he applies a cream. And he probably uses candles to light his