.

Mr.Sherlock Holmes.
Mr.Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table.

I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stick which our visitor had left behind him the night before.

It was a fine, thick piece of wood, bulbous-headed, of the sort which is known as a "Penang lawyer." Just under the head was a broad silver band nearly an inch across.

"To James Mortimer, M.R.C.S., from his friends of the C.C.H.," was engraved upon it, with the date "1884." It was just such a stick as the old-fashioned family practitioner used to carry--dignified, solid, and reassuring.
"Well, Watson, what do you make of it ?" Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign of my occupation.
"How did you know what I was doing?
I believe you have eyes in the back of your head." "I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front of me," said he.