Holmes smiled at the astonishment of Hopkins, which must have been reflected upon my features.  “Surely my deductions are simplicity itself,” said he.  “It would be difficult to name any articles which afford a finer field for inference than a pair of glasses, especially so remarkable a pair as these.  That they belong to a woman I infer from their delicacy, and also, of course, from the last words of the dying man.  As to her being a person of refinement and well dressed, they are, as you perceive, handsomely mounted in solid gold, and it is inconceivable that anyone who wore such glasses could be slatternly in other respects.  You will find that the clips are too wide for your nose, showing that the lady’s nose was very broad at the base.  This sort of nose is usually a short and coarse one, but there is a sufficient number of exceptions to prevent me from being dogmatic or from insisting upon this point in my description.  My own face is a narrow one, and yet I find that I cannot get my eyes into the centre, nor near the centre, of these glasses.  Therefore, the lady’s eyes are set very near to the sides of the nose.  You will perceive, Watson, that the glasses are concave and of unusual strength.  A lady whose vision has been so extremely contracted all her life is sure to have the physical characteristics of such vision, which are seen in the forehead, the eyelids, and the shoulders.”

“Yes,” I said, “I can follow each of your arguments.  I confess, however, that I am unable to understand how you arrive at the double visit to the optician.”

Holmes took the glasses in his hand.

“You will perceive,” he said, “that the clips are lined with tiny bands of cork to soften the pressure upon the nose.  One of these is discoloured and worn to some slight extent, but the other is new.  Evidently one has fallen off and been replaced.  I should judge that the older of them has not been there more than a few months.  They exactly correspond, so I gather that the lady went back to the same establishment for the second.”

“By George, it’s marvellous!” cried Hopkins, in an ecstasy of admiration.  “To think that I had all that evidence in my hand and never knew it!  I had intended, however, to go the round of the London opticians.”

“Of course you would.  Meanwhile, have you anything more to tell us about the case?”

“Nothing, Mr. Holmes.  I think that you know as much as I do now—­probably more.  We have had inquiries made as to any stranger seen on the country roads or at the railway station.  We have heard of none.  What beats me is the utter want of all object in the crime.  Not a ghost of a motive can anyone suggest.”

“Ah! there I am not in a position to help you.  But I suppose you want us to come out to-morrow?”

“If it is not asking too much, Mr. Holmes.  There’s a train from Charing Cross to Chatham at six in the morning, and we should be at Yoxley Old Place between eight and nine.”