The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist

From the years 1894 to 1901 inclusive, Mr. Sherlock Holmes was
a very busy man. It is safe to say that there was no public case
of any difficulty in which he was not consulted during those
eight years, and there were hundreds of private cases, some of
them of the most intricate and extraordinary character, in which
he played a prominent part. Many startling successes and a few
unavoidable failures were the outcome of this long period of
continuous work. As I have preserved very full notes of all
these cases, and was myself personally engaged in many of them,
it may be imagined that it is no easy task to know which I
should select to lay before the public. I shall, however,
preserve my former rule, and give the preference to those cases
which derive their interest not so much from the brutality of
the crime as from the ingenuity and dramatic quality of the
solution. For this reason I will now lay before the reader the
facts connected with Miss Violet Smith, the solitary cyclist of
Charlington, and the curious sequel of our investigation, which
culminated in unexpected tragedy. It is true that the
circumstance did not admit of any striking illustration of those
powers for which my friend was famous, but there were some
points about the case which made it stand out in those long
records of crime from which I gather the material for these
little narratives.

On referring to my notebook for the year 1895, I find that it
was upon Saturday, the 23rd of April, that we first heard of
Miss Violet Smith. Her visit was, I remember, extremely
unwelcome to Holmes, for he was immersed at the moment in a very
abstruse and complicated problem concerning the peculiar
persecution to which John Vincent Harden, the well known tobacco
millionaire, had been subjected. My friend, who loved above all
things precision and concentration of thought, resented anything
which distracted his attention from the matter in hand. And yet,
without a harshness which was foreign to his nature, it was
impossible to refuse to listen to the story of the young and
beautiful woman, tall, graceful, and queenly, who presented
herself at Baker Street late in the evening, and implored his
assistance and advice. It was vain to urge that his time was
already fully occupied, for the young lady had come with the
determination to tell her story, and it was evident that nothing
short of force could get her out of the room until she had done
so. With a resigned air and a somewhat weary smile, Holmes
begged the beautiful intruder to take a seat, and to inform us
what it was that was troubling her.

"At least it cannot be your health," said he, as his keen eyes
darted over her, "so ardent a bicyclist must be full of energy."