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“ After all , Watson , ” said Holmes , reaching up his hand for his clay pipe , “ I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies . If Horner were in danger it would be another thing ; but this fellow will not appear against him , and the case must collapse . I suppose that I am commuting a felony , but it is just possible that I am saving a soul . This fellow will not go wrong again ; he is too terribly frightened . Send him to gaol now , and you make him a gaol - bird for life . Besides , it is the season of forgiveness . Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem , and its solution is its own reward . If you will have the goodness to touch the bell , Doctor , we will begin another investigation , in which , also a bird will be the chief feature . ” VIII . THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes , I find many tragic , some comic , a large number merely strange , but none commonplace ; for , working as he did rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of wealth , he refused to associate himself with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual , and even the fantastic . Of all these varied cases , however , I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well - known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran . The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes , when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street . It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before , but a promise of secrecy was made at the time , from which I have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given . It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light , for I have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr . Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth . It was early in April in the year ’ 83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing , fully dressed , by the side of my bed . He was a late riser , as a rule , and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter - past seven , I blinked up at him in some surprise , and perhaps just a little resentment , for I was myself regular in my habits . “ Very sorry to knock you up , Watson , ” said he , “ but it’s the common lot this morning . Mrs . Hudson has been knocked up , she retorted upon me , and I on you . ” “ What is it , then — a fire ? ”
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