“But why Turkish?” asked Mr. Sherlock Holmes, gazing fixedly at my boots. I was reclining in a cane-backed chair at the moment, and my protruded feet had attracted his ever-active attention.
“English,” I answered in some surprise. “I got them at Latimer's, in Oxford Street.”
Holmes smiled with an expression of weary patience.
“The bath!” he said; “the bath! Why the relaxing and expensive Turkish rather than the invigorating home-made article?”
"Because for the last few days I have been feeling rheumatic and old. A Turkish bath is what we call an alterative in medicine– a fresh starting-point, a cleanser of the system.
“By the way, Holmes,” I added, “I have no doubt the connection between my boots and a Turkish bath is a perfectly self-evident one to a logical mind, and yet I should be obliged to you if you would indicate it.”
“The train of reasoning is not very obscure, Watson,” said Holmes with a mischievous twinkle. “It belongs to the same elementary class of deduction which I should illustrate if I were to ask you who shared your cab in your drive this morning.”
“I don't admit that a fresh illustration is an explanation,” said I with some asperity.
“Bravo, Watson! A very dignified and logical remonstrance. Let me see, what were the points? Take the last one first– the cab. You observe that you have some splashes on the left sleeve and shoulder of your coat. Had you sat in the centre of a hansom you would probably have had no splashes, and if you had they would certainly have been symmetrical. Therefore it is clear that you sat at the side. Therefore it is equally clear that you had a companion.”
“That is very evident.”
“Absurdly commonplace, is it not?”
“But the boots and the bath?”
“Equally childish. You are in the habit of doing up your boots in a certain way. I see them on this occasion fastened with an elaborate double bow, which is not your usual method of tying them. You have, therefore, had them off. Who has tied them? A bootmaker– or the boy at the bath. It is unlikely that it is the bootmaker, since your boots are nearly new. Well, what remains? The bath. Absurd, is it not? But, for all that, the Turkish bath has served a purpose.”
“What is that?”
“You say that you have had it because you need a change. Let me suggest that you take one. How would Lausanne do, my dear Watson– first-class tickets and all expenses paid on a princely scale?”
