e who wishes to study mankind this is
the spot," said Mycroft. "Look at the magnificent types! Look at these
two men who are coming towards us, for example."

"The billiard-marker and the other?"

"Precisely. What do you make of the other?"

The two men had stopped opposite the window. Some chalk marks over the
waistcoat pocket were the only signs of billiards which I could see
in one of them. The other was a very small, dark fellow, with his hat
pushed back and several packages under his arm.

"An old soldier, I perceive," said Sherlock.

"And very recently discharged," remarked the brother.

"Served in India, I see."

"And a non-commissioned officer."

"Royal Artillery, I fancy," said Sherlock.

"And a widower."

"But with a child."

"Children, my dear boy, children."

"Come," said I, laughing, "this is a little too much."

"Surely," answered Holmes, "it is not hard to say that a man with that
bearing, expression of authority, and sunbaked skin, is a soldier, is
more than a private, and is not long from India."

"That he has not left the service long is shown by his still wearing his
ammunition boots, as they are called," observed Mycroft.

"He had not the cavalry stride, yet he wore his hat on one side, as
is shown by the lighter skin of that side of his brow. His weight is
against his being a sapper. He is in the artillery."

"Then, of course, his complete mourning shows that he has lost some one
very dear. The fact that he is doing his own shopping looks as though
it were his wife. He has been buying things for children, you perceive.
There is a rattle, which shows that one of them is very young. The wife
probably died in childbed. The fact that he has a picture-book under his
arm shows that there is another child to be thought of."

I began to understand what my friend meant when he said that his brother
possessed even keener faculties that he did himself. He glanced across
at me and smiled. Mycroft took snuff from a tortoise-shell box, and
brushed away the wandering grains from his coat front with a large, red
silk handkerchief.

"By the way, Sherlock," said he, "I have had something quite after your
own heart--a most singular problem--submitted to my judgment. I really
had not the energy to follow it up save in a very incomplete fashion,
but it gave me a basis for some pleasing speculation. If you would care
to hear the facts--"

"My dear Mycroft, I should be delighted."

The brother sc