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Summer colds are always a little
trying."

"I was confined to the house by a severe chill for
three days last week. I thought, however, that I had
cast off every trace of it."

"So you have. You look remarkably robust."

"How, then, did you know of it?"

"My dear fellow, you know my methods."

"You deduced it, then?"

"Certainly."

"And from what?"

"From your slippers."

I glanced down at the new patent leathers which I was
wearing. "How on earth--" I began, but Holmes
answered my question before it was asked.

"Your slippers are new," he said. "You could not have
had them more than a few weeks. The soles which you
are at this moment presenting to me are slightly
scorched. For a moment I thought they might have got
wet and been burned in the drying. But near the instep
there is a small circular wafer of paper with the
shopman's hieroglyphics upon it. Damp would of course
have removed this. You had, then, been sitting with
your feet outstretched to the fire, which a man would
hardly do even in so wet a June as this if he were in
his full health."

Like all Holmes's reasoning the thing seemed
simplicity itself when it was once explained. He read
the thought upon my features, and his smile had a
tinge of bitterness.

"I am afraid that I rather give myself away when I
explain," said he. "Results without causes are much
more impressive. You are ready to come to Birmingham,
then?"

"Certainly. What is the case?"

"You shall hear it all in the train. My client is
outside in a four-wheeler. Can you come at once?"

"In an instant." I scribbled a note to my neighbor,
rushed upstairs to explain the matter to my wife, and
joined Holmes upon the door-step.

"Your neighbor is a doctor," said he, nodding at the
brass plate.

"Yes; he bought a practice as I did."

"An old-established one?"

"Just the same as mine. Both have been ever since the
houses were built."

"Ah! Then you got hold of the best of the two."

"I think I did. But how do you know?"

"By the steps, my boy. Yours are worn three inches
deeper than his. But this gentleman in the cab is my
client, Mr. Hall Pycroft. Allow me to introduce you
to him. Whip your horse up, cabby, for we have only
just time to catch our train."

The man whom I found myself facing was a well built,
fresh-complexioned young fellow, with a frank, honest
face and a slight, crisp, yellow mustache. He wore a
very shiny top hat and a neat suit of sober black,
which made him look what he was--a smart young City
man, of the class who have been labeled cockneys, but
who give us our crack volunteer regiments, and who
turn out more fine athletes and sportsmen than any
body of men in these islands. His round, ruddy face
was naturally full of cheeriness, but the corners of
his mouth seemed to me to be pulled down in a
half-comical distress. It was not, however, until we
were all in a first-class carriage and well started
upon our journey to Birmingham that I was able to

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