Saturday 24 February 2018

A Scandal in Bohemia: Chapter 1, part 8


ˈðɪs ɪz ɪnˈdiːd ə ˈmɪstri aɪ rɪˈmɑːkt || ˈwɒt də ju ɪˈmæʤən ðət ɪp ˈmiːnz

aɪ hæv ˈnəʊ ˈdeɪtə ˈjet || ɪts ə ˈkæpətl̩ mɪˈsteɪk | tə ˈθɪəraɪz bɪˈfɔː ˈwʌn hæz ˈdeɪtə || ɪnˈsensəbli | ˈwʌm bɪˈɡɪnz tə ˈtwɪs ˈfæks | tə ˈsuːt ˈθɪəriz | ɪnˈsted əv ˈθɪəriz tə ˈsuːt ˈfæks || bət ðə ˈnəʊt ɪtˈself || ˈwɒt də ju dɪˈʤuːs frəm ɪt

aɪ ˈkeəfli ɪɡˈzæmɪn ðə ˈraɪtɪŋ | ən ðə ˈpeɪpər əˈpɒn ˈwɪʧ ɪt wəz ˈrɪt

ðə ˈmæn u ˈrəʊt ɪt | wəz prɪˈzjuːməbli ˈwel tə ˈduː aɪ rɪˈmɑːkt | ɪnˈdevrɪŋ tu ˈɪməteɪp maɪ kəmˈpænjənz ˈprəʊsesɪz || ˈsʌʧ ˈpeɪpə kəd ˈnɒp bi ˈbɔːt | ˈʌndə ˈhɑːf ə ˈkraʊn ə ˈpækɪt || ɪts pɪˈkjuːliəli ˈstrɒŋ ən ˈstɪf

pɪˈkjuːliə | ˈðæts ðə ˈveri ˈwɜːd ˈsed ˈhəʊmz || ɪts ˈnɒt ən ˈɪŋɡlɪʃ ˈpeɪpər ə ˈtɔːl || ˈhəʊld ɪt ˈʌp tə ðə ˈlaɪt

aɪ ˈdɪd ˈsəʊ | ən ˈsɔːr ə ˈlɑːʤ ˈ | wɪð ə ˈsmɔːl ˈʤiː | ə ˈpiː | ən ə ˈlɑːʤ ˈʤiː | wɪð ə ˈsmɔːl ˈtiː | ˈwəʊvn̩ ˈɪntə ðə ˈteksʧər ə ðə ˈpeɪpə

ˈwɒt də ju ˈmeɪk ə ˈðæt ˈɑːst ˈhəʊmz

ðə ˈneɪm ə ðə ˈmeɪkə ˈnəʊ ˈdaʊt | ɔːr ɪz ˈmɒnəɡræm | ˈrɑːðə

 Doyle, Arthur Conan. The Original Illustrated Sherlock Holmes. “Reproduced from the original publication in The Strand Magazine with the classic illustrations by Sidney Paget.” Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books, [after 1954]. Internet Archive version of a copy donated by Friends of the San Francisco Library. http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/pagets/2.html


“This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it means?”

“I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?”

I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written.

“The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked, endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes. “Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff.”

“Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light.”

I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a large “G” with a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper.

“What do you make of that?” asked Holmes.

“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.”

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