Short Stories
entered the outer door?"
"No, I can't say I was."
"Well, he wrote so furiously that he broke his pencil, and
had, as you observe, to sharpen it again. This is of interest, Wat-
son. The pencil was not an ordinary one. It was above the usual
size, with a soft lead, the outer colour was dark blue, the maker's
name was printed in silver lettering, and the piece remaining is
only about an inch and a half long. Look for such a pencil, Mr.
Soames, and you have got your man. When I add that he pos-
sesses a large and very blunt knife, you have an additional aid."
Mr. Soames was somewhat overwhelmed by this flood of in-
formation. "I can follow the other points," said he, "but really, in
this matter of the length—"
Holmes held out a small chip with the letters NN and a space
of clear wood after them.
"You see?"
"No, I fear that even now—"
"Watson, I have always done you an injustice. There are oth-
ers. What could this NN be? It is at the end of a word. You are
aware that Johann Faber is the most common maker's name. Is it
not clear that there is just as much of the pencil left as usually
follows the Johann?" He held the small table sideways to the
electric light. "I was hoping that if the paper on which he wrote
was thin, some trace of it might come through upon this pol-
ished surface. No, I see nothing. I don't think there is anything
more to be learned here. Now for the central table. This small
pellet is, I presume, the black, doughy mass you spoke of.
Roughly pyramidal in shape and hollowed out, I perceive.
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