It Is Not That I Think Or

A Study In Scarlet, Eh? Why Shouldn't We Use A Little Art Jargon? There's The Scarlet Thread Of Murder Running Through The Colourless Skein Of Life, And Our Duty Is To Unravel It, And Isolate It, And Expose Every Inch Of It.

It Is Quite A Three-pipe Problem.

The More Outré And Grotesque An Incident Is The More Carefully It Deserves To Be Examined.

To His Eyes All Seemed Beautiful, But To Me A Tinge Of Melancholy Lay Upon The Countryside, Which Bore So Clearly The Mark Of The Waning Year, Yellow Leaves Carpeted The Lanes And Fluttered Down Upon Us As We Passed, The Rattle Of Our Wheels Died Away As We Drove Through Drifts Of Rotting Vegetation--sad Gifts, As It Seemed To Me, For Nature To Throw Before The Carriage Of The Returning Heir Of The Baskervilles.

It's A Wicked World, And When A Clever Man Turns His Brain To Crime It Is The Worst Of All.