in the belief that this might be a tenth case. The Yard said very
proper, and it would do its best, and no doubt did, but nothing was
elucidated.

It is just possible that had Mr. Fenwick communicated _every_ clue he
found, down to the smallest trifle, Dr. Vereker might have been able
to get at something through the Criminal Investigation Department.
But it wasn't fair to Sherlock Holmes to keep anything back. Fenwick,
knowing nothing of Vereker's inquiry, did so; for he had decided to
say nothing about a certain pawn-ticket that was in the pocket of an
otherwise empty purse or pocket-book, evidently just bought. He would,
however, investigate it himself, and did so.

It was quite three weeks, though, before he felt safe to go about
alone to any place distant from the house, more especially when he
did not know what the expedition would lead to. When at last he got
to the pawnbroker's, he found that that gentleman at the counter did
not recognise him, or said he did not. Fenwick, of course, could not
ask the question: "Did I pawn this watch?" It would have seemed
lunacy. But he framed a question that answered as well, to his
thinking.

"Would you very kindly tell me," he asked, dropping his voice,
"whether the person that pawned this watch was at all like me--like
a brother of mine, for instance?" Perhaps he was not a good hand at
pretences, and the pawnbroker outclassed him easily.

"No, sir," replied he, without looking to see; "that I most certainly
can _not_ tell you." Fenwick was not convinced that this was true, but
had to admit to himself that it might be. This man's life was one long
record of an infinity of short loans, and its problem was the
advancing of the smallest conceivable sums on the largest obtainable
security. Why _should_ he recollect one drop in the ocean of needy
applicants? The only answer Fenwick could give to this was based on
his belief that he looked quite unlike the other customers. More
knowledge would have shown him that there was not one of those
customers, scarcely, but had a like belief. It is the common form of
human thought among those who seek to have pawns broked. They are a
class made up entirely of exceptions.

Fenwick came away from the shop with the watch that _must have been_
his. That was how he thought of it. As soon as he wore it again, it
became _his_ watch, naturally. But he could remember nothing about it.
And its recovery from the pawnbroker's he could not remember