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One Saturday morning in autumn,I went to see my friend SherlockHolmes at his rooms in Baker Street.When I came, I saw that he alreadyhad a visitor. That was a very fat oldman with very bright red hair anda red face.“This is very good that you havecome, my dear Watson,” with thesewords Holmes turned to his visitor.“Doctor Watson has helped me inmany of my cases, Mr Wilson, and Iam sure that he will be very useful tous in this case too. Watson, this is MrJabez Wilson.” The fat gentleman gotup from his chair to greet me.Holmes saw that I was watching theold man and guessed my thoughts.“You are trying to be a detective,Watson!” he said. “Well, Mr Wilson’sappearance tells us about his past life.It’s clear that he has been a workman,that he has been writing a lot recently,and that he has been in China.”Mr Wilson was very astonished.“How do you know, Mr Holmes, allthese things? I didn’t tell you aboutthem. You are right that I was a carpenterwhen I was young. But who told you?”“Your hands prove it, Mr Wilson,”Holmes answered. Your right handis larger than your left one. You haveworked with it, and so it is moredeveloped.”“But how do you know that I havebeen writing a lot recently?”“It is very easy. I looked at yoursleeves. Your right sleeve nearly wearsout at the wrist, and the left sleevenearly wears out at the bend of thearm. That means that your left arm andyour right wrist have been rubbing ona desk. So you have been writing.”“And how did you guessabout China?”“There is a tattoo of a pink fish onyour right wrist. Only in China theydo this kind of tattoo. I know it, MrWilson. I have studied tattoos: in fact,I have written a book about them. I alsocan see a Chinese coin on your watchchain. So it is not difficult to guess thatyou have been in China.”Mr Wilson laughed loudly.“It is really very easy.”