“It surprised me.”

“But, surely, it was very obvious.  I was then much surprised and interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones, the one having a slightly decorated toe cap and the other a plain one.  One was buttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and fifth.  Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry.”

“And what else?” I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by my friend’s incisive reasoning.

“I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving home, but after being fully dressed.  You observed that her right glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not, apparently, see that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink.  She had written in a hurry, and dipped her pen too deep.  It must have been this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger.  All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back to business, Watson.  Would you mind reading me the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?”

I held the little printed slip to the light.  “Missing,” it said, “on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman named Hosmer Angel.  About five feet seven inches in height; strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in the center, bushy black side-whiskers and mustache; tinted glasses; slight infirmity of speech.  Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and gray Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots.  Known to have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street.  Anybody bringing,” etc., etc.

“That will do,” said Holmes.  “As to the letters,” he continued, glancing over them, “they are very commonplace.  Absolutely no clew in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once.  There is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike you.”

“They are typewritten,” I remarked.

“Not only that, but the signature is typewritten.  Look at the neat little ‘Hosmer Angel’ at the bottom.  There is a date, you see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague.  The point about the signature is very suggestive—­in fact, we may call it conclusive.”

“Of what?”

“My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears upon the case?”

“I cannot say that I do, unless it were that he wished to be able to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted.”

“No, that was not the point.  However, I shall write two letters which should settle the matter.  One is to a firm in the City, the other is to the young lady’s stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking him whether he could meet us here at six o’clock to-morrow evening.  It is just as well that we should do business with the male relatives.  And now, doctor, we can do nothing until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our little problem upon the shelf for the interim.”