“I do not think that any other of my adventures with Mr. Sherlock Holmes would have begun so suddenly or so dramatically as the one I associate with Three Attics.” I had not seen Holmes for several days and had no idea in what new direction his energies were directed. That morning, however, he was in a talkative mood, and had just seated me in a shabby low chair at the side of the fireplace, while he himself, pipe in mouth, sank into the chair opposite, when our visitor appeared. If I had written that an angry bull appeared, it would have expressed what happened more precisely...”