e country nor the sea presented the
slightest attraction to him. He loved to lie in the very centre of five
millions of people, with his filaments stretching out and running
through them, responsive to every little rumour or suspicion of unsolved
crime. Appreciation of Nature found no place among his many gifts, and
his only change was when he turned his mind from the evil-doer of the
town to track down his brother of the country.

[Illustration: "I FELL INTO A BROWN STUDY."]

Finding that Holmes was too absorbed for conversation I had tossed aside
the barren paper and, leaning back in my chair, I fell into a brown
study. Suddenly my companion's voice broke in upon my thoughts.

"You are right, Watson," said he. "It does seem a most preposterous way
of settling a dispute."

"Most preposterous!" I exclaimed, and then suddenly realizing how he had
echoed the inmost thought of my soul, I sat up in my chair and stared at
him in blank amazement.

"What is this, Holmes?" I cried. "This is beyond anything which I could
have imagined."

He laughed heartily at my perplexity.

"You remember," said he, "that some little time ago when I read you the
passage in one of Poe's sketches in which a close reasoner follows the
unspoken thoughts of his companion, you were inclined to treat the
matter as a mere _tour-de-force_ of the author. On my remarking that I
was constantly in the habit of doing the same thing you expressed
incredulity."

"Oh, no!"

"Perhaps not with your tongue, my dear Watson, but certainly with your
eyebrows. So when I saw you throw down your paper and enter upon a train
of thought, I was very happy to have the opportunity of reading it off,
and eventually of breaking into it, as a proof that I had been in
rapport with you."

But I was still far from satisfied. "In the example which you read to
me," said I, "the reasoner drew his conclusions from the actions of the
man whom he observed. If I remember right, he stumbled over a heap of
stones, looked up at the stars, and so on. But I have been seated
quietly in my chair, and what clues can I have given you?"

"You do yourself an injustice. The features are given to man as the
means by which he shall express his emotions, and yours are faithful
servants."

"Do you mean to say that you read my train of thoughts from my
features?"

"Your features, and especially your eyes. Perhaps you cannot yourself
recall how your reverie commenced?"

"No, I cannot."