“Prints it?”

“Yes, sir; prints it in pencil. Just the word, nothing more. Here’s the one I brought to show you⁠—‘soap.’ Here’s another⁠—‘match.’ This is one he left the first morning⁠—‘daily gazette.’ I leave that paper with his breakfast every morning.”

“Dear me, Watson,” said Holmes, staring with great curiosity at the slips of foolscap which the landlady had handed to him, “this is certainly a little unusual. Seclusion I can understand; but why print? Printing is a clumsy process. Why not write? What would it suggest, Watson?”

“That he desired to conceal his handwriting.”

“But why? What can it matter to him that his landlady should have a word of his writing? Still, it may be as you say. Then, again, why such laconic messages?”

“I cannot imagine.”