The shop-walker or salesman is accustomed to move in relatively confined spaces, and so acquires a short, brisk step, and his dress tends to rather exuberant smartness; the station official patrols long platforms, often at a rapid pace, and so tends to take long strides, while his dress is dignified and neat rather than florid.

The last-mentioned characteristics, you see, appear in the subject of our analysis; he agrees with the general description of a stationmaster.

But if we therefore conclude that he _is_ a stationmaster, we fall into the time-honoured fallacy of the undistributed middle term--the fallacy that haunts all brilliant guessers, including the detective, not only of romance, but too often also of real life.

All that the observed facts justify us in inferring is that this man is engaged in some mode of life that necessitates a good deal of standing; the rest is mere guess-work." "It's wonderful," said Polton, gazing at the now distant figure; "perfectly wonderful.

I should never have known he was a stationmaster." With this and a glance of deep admiration at his employer, he took his departure.
"You will also observe," said Thorndyke, with a smile, "that a fortunate guess often brings more credit than a piece of sound reasoning with a less striking result." "Yes, that is unfortunately the case, and it is certainly true in the present instance.