Dear Holmesians,
An interesting anecdote from Sir Doyle, I do not know whether this
has been discussed here before-,
Sir Doyle would repeat for the rest of his life an anecdote from
his first American lecture tour, in 1894. A cabby, dropping him off,
asked for a ticket to that night's lecture instead of a fare.

''How on earth did you recognize me?'' Doyle asked.

The cabman replied: ''If you will excuse me, your coat lapels are
badly twisted downward, where they have been grasped by the
pertinacious New York reporters. Your hair has the Quakerish cut of
a Philadelphia barber, and your hat, battered at the brim in front,
shows where you have tightly grasped it, in the struggle to stand
your ground at a Chicago literary luncheon. Your right shoe has a
large block of Buffalo mud just under the instep; the odor of a
Utica cigar hangs about your clothing. . . . And, of course, the
labels on your case give a full account of your recent travels --
just below the brass plaque reading 'Conan Doyle.'
So it goes
Sumalsn