The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax

By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle



"But why Turkish?" asked Mr. Sherlock Holmes, gazing fixedly at
my boots. I was reclining in a cane-backed chair at the moment,
and my protruded feet had attracted his ever-active attention.

"English," I answered in some surprise. "I got them at
Latimer's, in Oxford Street."

Holmes smiled with an expression of weary patience.

"The bath!" he said; "the bath! Why the relaxing and expensive
Turkish rather than the invigorating home-made article?"

"Because for the last few days I have been feeling rheumatic and
old. A Turkish bath is what we call an alterative in medicine--a
fresh starting-point, a cleanser of the system.

"By the way, Holmes," I added, "I have no doubt the connection
between my boots and a Turkish bath is a perfectly self-evident
one to a logical mind, and yet I should be obliged to you if you
would indicate it."

"The train of reasoning is not very obscure, Watson," said Holmes
with a mischievous twinkle. "It belongs to the same elementary
class of deduction which I should illustrate if I were to ask you