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“It depends upon those cigarettes that I smoked,” said he. “It ispossible that I am utterly mistaken. The cigarettes will show me.”"My dear Holmes,” I exclaimed, “how on earth-”
“Well, well, you may see for yourself. If not, there’s no harm done.Of course, we always have the optician clue to fall back upon, but Itake a short cut when I can get it. Ah, here is the good Mrs.Marker! Let us enjoy five minutes of instructive conversation withher.”
I may have remarked before that Holmes had, when he liked, apeculiarly ingratiating way with women, and that he very readilyestablished terms of confidence with them. In half the time which hehad named, he had captured the housekeeper’s goodwill and was chattingwith her as if he had known her for years.
“Yes, Mr. Holmes, it is as you say, sir. He does smoke somethingterrible. All day and sometimes all night, sir. I’ve seen that room ofa morning- well, sir, you’d have thought it was a London fog. Pooryoung Mr. Smith, he was a smoker also, but not as bad as theprofessor. His health- well, I don’t know that it’s better nor worsefor the smoking.”
“Ah!” said Holmes, “but it kills the appetite.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, sir.”
“I suppose the professor eats hardly anything?”
“Well, he is variable. I’ll say that for him.”
“I’ll wager he took no breakfast this morning, and won’t face hislunch after all the cigarettes I saw him consume.”
“Well, you’re out there, sir, as it happens, for he ate a remarkablebig breakfast this morning. I don’t know when I’ve known him make abetter one, and he’s ordered a good dish of cutlets for his lunch. I’msurprised myself, for since I came into that room yesterday and sawyoung Mr. Smith lying there on the floor, I couldn’t bear to look atfood. Well, it takes all sorts to make a world, and the professorhasn’t let it take his appetite away.”

A sad-faced, elderly woman came into the room.
“Did you dust this bureau yesterday morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you notice this scratch?”
“No, sir, I did not.”
“I am sure you did not, for a duster would have swept away theseshreds of varnish. Who has the key of this bureau?”
“The Professor keeps it on his watch-chain.”
“Is it a simple key?”
“No, sir, it is a Chubb’s key.”
“Very good. Mrs. Marker, you can go. Now we are making a littleprogress. Our lady enters the room, advances to the bureau, and eitheropens it or tries to do so. While she is thus engaged, youngWilloughby Smith enters the room. In her hurry to withdraw the key,she makes this scratch upon the door. He seizes her, and she,snatching up the nearest object, which happens to be this knife,strikes at him in order to make him let go his hold. The blow is afatal one. He falls and she escapes, either with or without the objectfor which she has come. Is Susan, the maid, there? Could anyone havegot away through that door after the time that you heard the cry,Susan?”
“No sir, it is impossible. Before I got down the stair, I’d haveseen anyone in the passage. Besides, the door never opened, or I wouldhave heard it.”
“That settles this exit. Then no doubt the lady went out the way shecame. I understand that this other passage leads only to theprofessor’s room. There is no exit that way?”

“I see. You have no explanation yourself of the tragedy?”"Possibly an accident, possibly- I only breathe it amongourselves- a suicide. Young men have their hidden troubles- someaffair of the heart, perhaps, which we have never known. It is amore probable supposition than murder.”
“But the eyeglasses?”
“Ah! I am only a student- a man of dreams. I cannot explain thepractical things of life. But still, we are aware, my friend, thatlove-gages may take strange shapes. By all means take anothercigarette. It is a pleasure to see anyone appreciate them so. A fan, aglove, glasses- who knows what article may be carried as a token ortreasured when a man puts an end to his life? This gentleman speaks offootsteps in the grass, but, after all, it is easy to be mistaken onsuch a point. As to the knife, it might well be thrown far from theunfortunate man as he fell. It is possible that I speak as a child,but to me it seems that Willoughby Smith has met his fate by his ownhand.”
Holmes seemed struck by the theory thus put forward, and hecontinued to walk up and down for some time, lost in thought andconsuming cigarette after cigarette.
“Tell me, Professor Coram,” he said, at last, “what is in thatcupboard in the bureau?”
“Nothing that would help a thief. Family papers, letters from mypoor wife, diplomas of universities which have done me honour. Here isthe key. You can look for yourself.”
Holmes picked up the key, and looked at it for an instant, then hehanded it back.
“No, I hardly think that it would help me,” said he. “I shouldprefer to go quietly down to your garden, and turn the whole matterover in my head. There is something to be said for the theory ofsuicide which you have put forward. We must apologize for havingintruded upon you, Professor Coram, and I promise that we won’tdisturb you until after lunch. At two o’clock we will come again,and report to you anything which may have happened in the interval.”Holmes was curiously distrait, and we walked up and down thegarden path for some time in silence.
“Have you a clue?” I asked, at last.

“I shall indeed be indebted to you if you can throw a light whereall is so dark to us. To a poor bookworm and invalid like myselfsuch a blow is paralyzing. I seem to have lost the faculty of thought.But you are a man of action- you are a man of affairs. It is part ofthe everyday routine of your life. You can preserve your balance inevery emergency. We are fortunate, indeed, in having you at our side.”Holmes was pacing up and down one side of the room whilst the oldprofessor was talking. I observed that he was smoking withextraordinary rapidity. It was evident that he shared our host’sliking for the fresh Alexandrian cigarettes.
“Yes, sir, it is a crushing blow,” said the old man. “That is mymagnum opus- the pile of papers on the side table yonder. It is myanalysis of the documents found in the Coptic monasteries of Syria andEgypt, a work which will cut deep at the very foundation of revealedreligion. With my enfeebled health I do not know whether I shallever be able to complete it, now that my assistant has been taken fromme. Dear me! Mr. Holmes, why, you are even a quicker smoker than Iam myself.”
Holmes smiled.
“I am a connoisseur,” said he, taking another cigarette from thebox- his fourth- and lighting it from the stub of that which he hadfinished. “I will not trouble you with any lengthy
cross-examination, Professor Coram, since I gather that you were inbed at the time of the crime, and could know nothing about it. I wouldonly ask this: What do you imagine that this poor fellow meant byhis last words: ‘The professor- it was she’?”
The professor shook his head.
“Susan is a country girl,” said he, “and you know the incrediblestupidity of that class. I fancy that the poor fellow murmured someincoherent delirious words, and that she twisted them into thismeaningless message.”

“No, sir.”
“We shall go down it and make the acquaintance of the professor.Halloa, Hopkins! this is very important, very important indeed. Theprofessor’s corridor is also lined with cocoanut matting.”"Well, sir, what of that?”
“Don’t you see any bearing upon the case? Well, well. I don’t insistupon it. No doubt I am wrong. And yet it seems to me to be suggestive.Come with me and introduce me.”
We passed down the passage, which was of the same length as thatwhich led to the garden. At the end was a short flight of steps endingin a door. Our guide knocked, and then ushered us into the professor’sbedroom.
It was a very large chamber, lined with innumerable volumes, whichhad overflowed from the shelves and lay in piles in the corners, orwere stacked all round at the base of the cases. The bed was in thecentre of the room, and in it, propped up with pillows, was theowner of the house. I have seldom seen a more remarkable lookingperson. It was a gaunt, aquiline face which was turned towards us,with piercing dark eyes, which lurked in deep hollows under overhungand tufted brows. His hair and beard were white, save that thelatter was curiously stained with yellow around his mouth. A cigaretteglowed amid the tangle of white hair, and the air of the room wasfetid with stale tobacco smoke. As he held out his hand to Holmes, Iperceived that it was also stained with yellow nicotine.”A smoker, Mr. Holmes?” said he, speaking in well-chosen English,with a curious little mincing accent. “Pray take a cigarette. And you,sir? I can recommend them, for I have them especially prepared byIonides, of Alexandria. He sends me a thousand at a time, and I grieveto say that I have to arrange for a fresh supply every fortnight. Bad,sir, very bad, but an old man has few pleasures. Tobacco and mywork- that is all that is left to me.”
Holmes had lit a cigarette and was shooting little darting glancesall over the room.
“Tobacco and my work, but now only tobacco,” the old manexclaimed. “Alas! what a fatal interruption! Who could have foreseensuch a terrible catastrophe? So estimable a young man! I assure youthat, after a few months’ training, he was an admirable assistant.What do you think of the matter, Mr. Holmes?”
“I have not yet made up my mind.”

The Beatles went from “All My Loving” in 1964 to “The Word” & “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)” in 1965. The Rolling Stones went from doing generic R&B inspired rock n roll in 1964 to writing & recording “Playing With Fire” in 1965. Bob Dylan went from “Blowin’ in the Wind” in 1964 to “Ballad of a Thin Man” in 1965. Tho Who hit the scene with songs like “My Generation.” As these examples make clear, popular music changed a lot from 1964 to 1965.

The albums listed here are done so alphabetically by album name as I found choosing just seven albums difficult enough without then having to put them in order. Note that I didn’t call this the best or greatest albums of 1965. I’ve decided that my own opinion isn’t quite that important after all. To me it’s not so much about ranking music because I think ranking art is pretty silly when you get down to it. To me it’s more about appreciating great music. And that’s what I think this is, great music. I hope that you can appreciate it the way that I do.

#1 Bringing It All Back Home by Bob Dylan – Not quite as great as Dylan’s other 1965 album (Highway 61 Revisited) but still an easy choice for one of the seven must hear albums of ’67. This was the sound of Dylan “going electric” for the first time. “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” “Maggie’s Farm,fake oakleys,” & “Mr. Tambourine Man” are among more well known songs on the album. If you’re just getting into Dylan this may be a great place to start.

#2 Help,rolex submariner replica! – Obviously it’s Rubber Soul and not Help! people think of when talking about The Beatles musical advances in 1965 but Help! came first and there were already real signs John Lennon & Paul McCartney’s maturing as songwriters. For one I think the title track often doesn’t really get the respect it deserves. Sometimes The Beatles music is just so good it’s like they are some other level. Imagine if some one hit wonder band had done “Help!” They could have based their whole career on it. That’s how good that song is. Then there’s “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” which is really beautiful and hard to imagine The Beatles having done in 1964. That’s how quickly they were progressing. Music that was unimaginable just one year earlier are now common place.

Of course the album includes “Yesterday” which arguably the most well known pop song of all time. But it’s remarkable not just because of it’s popularity or it’s timeless melody but also because of the very unusual arrangement. It’s often forgot how experimental the arrangement for “Yesterday” really was at the time. Rock bands just didn’t use strings back then. That was a new idea. It’s just become so ubiquitous since then that we forget that even a song that seems a bit “vanilla” like “Yesterday” was actually another advance forward in many ways.

#3 Highway 61 Revisted by Bob Dylan – One of Dylan’s greatest albums ever, it’s an easy choice for me. While I don’t enjoy it quite as much as his 1966 follow-up Blonde on Blonde (and I think that goes for music in general, I prefer ’66 to ’65) this is a fantastic album. Of course, everyone knows “Like a Rolling Stone” which was Dylan’s biggest hit single ever and the first track on this album. “Ballad of a Thin Man” may be my favorite song on the album (it features Dylan’s famous “Mr. Jones.”)

#4 My Generation by The Who – Sadly The Who don’t seem to get quite the same level of respect that it seems like they should get. This is The Who’s debut album and they definitely appeared on the scene in a huge way. It includes the classic title track and “The Kids Are Alright.”

#5 Out of Our Heads by The Rolling Stones – Includes the classic single “(Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” along with “The Last Time” and “Playing With Fire.” Like everyone else in 1965, The Stones were moving into new territory musically. It’s hard to imagine things moving so quickly today when popular culture seems to be standing still. I mean are people seriously still watching American Idol? Really? After years of that garbage, people still want more?

#6 Rubber Soul by The Beatles – This was The Beatles first album that was really heavily influenced by their use of drugs. When listening to songs like “Nowhere Man, “Girl,” & “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)” I can practically smelly the smoke. This is really the first Beatles album that plays like a genuine work of art. And that’s really what is. There’s only two weak tracks (“What Goes On” & “Run for Your Life”) otherwise it’s close to perfection.

#7 Today,oakleys wholesale! by The Beach Boys – Considering how well known their 1966 masterpiece Pet Sounds is known it’s somewhat strange that the precursor to that album, 1965′s Today! is largely ignored. While it’s not as good as Pet Sounds, you can hear the progression to Pet Sounds and it’s still a very good album. Side 2 in particular is worth hearing as it apparently represents the first music written by Brian Wilson after he started experimenting with drugs.

　　”Well, Wilson, any news?”

　　”No, sir- nothing.”

　　”No reports of any stranger seen?”

　　”No, sir. Down at the station they are certain that no strangereither came or went yesterday.”

　　”Have you had inquiries made at inns and lodgings?”

　　”Yes, sir: there is no one that we cannot account for.”"Well, it’s only a reasonable walk to Chatham. Anyone might staythere or take a train without being observed. This is the gardenpath of which I spoke, Mr. Holmes. I’ll pledge my word there was nomark on it yesterday.”

　　”On which side were the marks on the grass?”

　　”This side, sir. This narrow margin of grass between the path andthe flowerbed. I can’t see the traces now, but they were clear to methen.”

　　”Yes, yes: someone has passed along,” said Holmes, stooping over thegrass border. “Our lady must have picked her steps carefully, must shenot, since on the one side she would leave a track on the path, and onthe other an even clearer one on the soft bed?”

　　”Yes, sir, she must have been a cool hand.”

　　I saw an intent look pass over Holmes’s face.

　　”You say that she must have come back this way?”

　　”Yes, sir, there is no other.”

　　”On this strip of grass?”

　　”Certainly, Mr. Holmes.”

　　”Hum! It was a very remarkable performance- very remarkable. Well, Ithink we have exhausted the path. Let us go farther. This gardendoor is usually kept open, I suppose? Then this visitor had nothing todo but to walk in. The idea of murder was not in her mind, or shewould have provided herself with some sort of weapon, instead ofhaving to pick this knife off the writing-table. She advanced alongthis corridor, leaving no traces upon the cocoanut matting. Then shefound herself in this study. How long was she there? We have nomeans of judging.”

　　”Not more than a few minutes, sir. I forgot to tell you that Mrs.Marker, the housekeeper, had been in there tidying not very, longbefore- about a quarter of an hour, she says.”

　　”Well, that gives us a limit. Our lady enters this room, and whatdoes she do? She goes over to the writing-table. What for? Not foranything in the drawers. If there had been anything worth hertaking, it would surely have been locked up. No, it was forsomething in that wooden bureau. Halloa! what is that scratch upon theface of it? Just hold a match, Watson. Why did you not tell me ofthis, Hopkins?”

　　The mark which he was examining began upon the brasswork on therighthand side of the keyhole, and extended for about four inches,where it had scratched the varnish from the surface.

　　”I noticed it, Mr. Holmes, but you’ll always find scratches rounda keyhole.”

　　”This is recent, quite recent. See how the brass shines where itis cut. An old scratch would be the same colour as the surface. Lookat it through my lens. There’s the varnish, too, like earth on eachside of a furrow. Is Mrs. Marker there?”

　　”Yes,” I said, “I can follow each of your arguments. I confess,however, that I am unable to understand how you arrive at the doublevisit to the optician.”

　　Holmes took the glasses in his hand.

　　”You will perceive,” he said, “that the clips are lined with tinybands of cork to soften the pressure upon the nose. One of these isdiscoloured and worn to some slight extent, but the other is new.Evidently one has fallen off and been replaced. I should judge thatthe older of them has not been there more than a few months. Theyexactly correspond, so I gather that the lady went back to the sameestablishment for the second.”

　　”By George, it’s marvellous!” cried Hopkins, in an ecstasy ofadmiration. “To think that I had all that evidence in my hand andnever knew it! I had intended, however, to go the round of theLondon opticians.”

　　”Of course you would. Meanwhile, have you anything more to tell usabout the case?”

　　”Nothing, Mr. Holmes. I think that you know as much as I do now-probably more. We have had inquiries made as to any stranger seen onthe country roads or at the railway station. We have heard of none.What beats me is the utter want of all object in the crime. Not aghost of a motive can anyone suggest.”

　　”Ah! there I am not in a position to help you. But I suppose youwant us to come out to-morrow?”

　　”If it is not asking too much, Mr. Holmes. There’s a train fromCharing Cross to Chatham at six in the morning, and we should be atYoxley Old Place between eight and nine.”

　　”Then we shall take it. Your case has certainly some features ofgreat interest, and I shall be delighted to look into it. Well, it’snearly one, and we had best get a few hours’ sleep. I daresay youcan manage all right on the sofa in front of the fire. I’ll light myspirit lamp, and give you a cup of coffee before we start.”The gale had blown itself out next day, but it was a bittermorning when we started upon our journey. We saw the cold winter sunrise over the dreary marshes of the Thames and the long, suddenreaches of the river, which I shall ever associate with our pursuit ofthe Andaman Islander in the earlier days of our career. After a longand weary journey, we alighted at a small station some miles fromChatham. While a horse was being put into a trap at the local inn,we snatched a hurried breakfast, and so we were all ready for businesswhen we at last arrived at Yoxley Old Place. A constable met us at thegarden gate.

　　”Exactly. The idea crossed my mind. But we found the knife some feetaway from the body, so that seems impossible. Then, of course, thereare the man’s own dying words. And, finally, there was this veryimportant piece of evidence which was found clasped in the deadman’s right hand.”

　　From his pocket Stanley Hopkins drew a small paper packet. Heunfolded it and disclosed a golden pince-nez, with two broken endsof black silk cord dangling from the end of it. “Willoughby Smithhad excellent sight,” he added. “There can be no question that thiswas snatched from the face or the person of the assassin.”Sherlock Holmes took the glasses into his hand, and examined themwith the utmost attention and interest. He held them on his nose,endeavoured to read through them, went to the window and stared up thestreet with them, looked at them most minutely in the full light ofthe lamp, and finally, with a chuckle, seated himself at the table andwrote a few lines upon a sheet of paper, which he tossed across toStanley Hopkins.

　　”That’s the best I can do for you,” said he. “It may prove to beof some use.”

　　The astonished detective read the note aloud. It ran as follows:”Wanted, a woman of good address, attired like a lady. She has aremarkably thick nose, with eyes which are set close upon eitherside of it. She has a puckered forehead, a peering expression, andprobably rounded shoulders. There are indications that she has hadrecourse to an optician at least twice during the last few months.As her glasses are of remarkable strength, and as opticians are notvery numerous, there should be no difficulty in tracing her.”Holmes smiled at the astonishment of Hopkins, which must have beenreflected upon my features.

　　”Surely my deductions are simplicity itself,” said he. “It would bedifficult to name any articles which afford a finer field forinference than a pair of glasses, especially so remarkable a pair asthese. That they belong to a woman I infer from their delicacy, andalso, of course, from the last words of the dying man. As to her beinga person of refinement and well dressed, they are, as you perceive,handsomely mounted in solid gold, and it is inconceivable thatanyone who wore such glasses could be slatternly in other respects.You will find that the clips are too wide for your nose, showingthat the lady’s nose was very broad at the base. This sort of noseis usually a short and coarse one, but there is a sufficient number ofexceptions to prevent me from being dogmatic or from insisting uponthis point in my description. My own face is a narrow one, and yet Ifind that I cannot get my eyes into the centre, nor near the centre,of these glasses. Therefore, the lady’s eyes are set very near tothe sides of the nose. You will perceive, Watson, that the glasses areconcave and of unusual strength. A lady whose vision has been soextremely contracted all her life is sure to have the physicalcharacteristics of such vision, which are seen in the forehead, theeyelids, and the shoulders.”