“By the way,” I asked suddenly, stopping and turning upon Stamford, “how the

deuce did he know that I had come from Afghanistan?”

 

My companion smiled an enigmatical smile. “That’s just his little peculiarity,”

he said. “A good many people have wanted to know how he finds things out.”

 

“Oh! a mystery is it?” I cried, rubbing my hands. “This is very piquant. I am

much obliged to you for bringing us together. ‘The proper study of mankind is

man,’ you know.”

 

“You must study him, then,” Stamford said, as he bade me good-bye. “You’ll find

him a knotty problem, though. I’ll wager he learns more about you than you about

him. Good-bye.”

 

“Good-bye,” I answered, and strolled on to my hotel, considerably interested in

my new acquaintance.

 

CHAPTER II.

 

THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION.

 

We met next day as he had arranged, and inspected the rooms at No. 221B, Baker

Street, of which he had spoken at our meeting. They consisted of a couple of

comfortable bed-rooms and a single large airy sitting-room, cheerfully