Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign of my occupation.
“How did you know what I was doing? I believe you have eyes in the back of your head.”
“I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffeepot in front of me,” said he. “But, tell me, Watson, what do you make of our visitor’s stick?
The Hound of the Baskervilles
·
Arthur Conan Doyle
