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Of course, it is obvious that it is music.
You observe the spatulate finger-ends, Watson, which is com-
mon to both professions? There is a spirituality about the face,
however" -- she gently turned it towards thc light -- "which the
typewriter does not generate. This lady is a musician."
"Yes, Mr. Holmes, I teach music."
"In the country, I presume, from your complexion."
"Yes, sir, near Farnham, on the borders of Surrey."
"A beautiful neighbourhood, and full of the most interesting
association. You remember, Watson, that it was near there that
we took Archie Stamford, the forger. Now, Miss Violet, what
has happened to you, near Farnham, on the borders of Surrey?"
The young lady, with great clearness and composure, made
the following curious statement:
"My father is dead, Mr. Holmes. He was James Smith, who
conducted the orchestra at the old Imperial Theatre. My mother
and I were left without a relation in the world except one uncle
Ralph Smith, who went to Africa twenty-five years ago, and we
have never had a word from him since.


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