? ? ? ? "Mister, sir, Mister -- a humble M.R.C.S."
? ? ? ? "And a man of precise mind, evidently."
? ? ? ? "A dabbler in science, Mr. Holmes, a picker up of shells on the shores of the great unknown ocean. I presume that it is Mr. Sherlock Holmes whom I am addressing and not --"
? ? ? ? "No, this is my friend Dr. Watson."
? ? ? ? "Glad to meet you, sir. I have heard your name mentioned in connection with that of your friend. You interest me very much, Mr. Holmes. I had hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull or such well-marked supra-orbital development. Would you have any objection to my running my finger along your parietal fissure? A cast of your skull, sir, until the original is available, would be an ornament to any anthropological museum. It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull."
? ? ? ? Sherlock Holmes waved our strange visitor into a chair. "You are an enthusiast in your line of thought, I perceive, sir, as I am in mine," said he. "I observe from your forefinger that you make your own cigarettes. Have no hesitation in lighting one."
? ? ? ? The man drew out paper and tobacco and twirled the one up in the other with surprising dexterity.
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