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Sherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantel-piece and his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long; white; nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle; and rolled back his left shirt-cuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the sinewy forearm and wrist all dotted and scarred with innumerable puncture-marks. Finally he thrust the sharp point home; pressed down the tiny piston; and sank back into the velvet-lined arm-chair with a long sigh of satisfaction.
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