“Indeed!” I murmured.

 

“Criminal cases are continually hinging upon that one point. A man is suspected

of a crime months perhaps after it has been committed. His linen or clothes are

examined, and brownish stains discovered upon them. Are they blood stains, or

mud stains, or rust stains, or fruit stains, or what are they? That is a

question which has puzzled many an expert, and why? Because there was no

reliable test. Now we have the Sherlock Holmes’ test, and there will no longer

be any difficulty.”

 

His eyes fairly glittered as he spoke, and he put his hand over his heart and

bowed as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his imagination.

 

“You are to be congratulated,” I remarked, considerably surprised at his

enthusiasm.

 

“There was the case of Von Bischoff at Frankfort last year. He would certainly

have been hung had this test been in existence. Then there was Mason of

Bradford, and the notorious Muller, and Lefevre of Montpellier, and Samson of

New Orleans. I could name a score of cases in which it would have been

decisive.”

 

“You seem to be a walking calendar of crime,” said Stamford with a laugh. “You

might start a paper on those lines. Call it the ‘Police News of the Past.’”