Doyle himself wasn’t happy with “The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist” and I don’t think that’s a judgment many readers would disagree with. In his prefatory remarks Watson says he’s writing it up for public consumption because of “the ingenuity and dramatic quality of the solution,” but then immediately adds that it does “not admit of any striking illustration of those powers for which my friend was famous.” In fact, the main powers Holmes displays are his pugilistic skills, which he gets to use in a tussle in a pub. Otherwise, the detection is of the order of what Holmes notices when Violet Smith first comes to visit him. He immediately determines that she is a musician, as her “spatulate finger-ends” either come from typing or playing piano and “there is a spirituality about the face . . . which the typewriter does not generate.” Hoo-boy. Miss Smith is on firmer ground when she deduces that her employer has romance on his mind when he looks at her because, despite his being a gentleman, “a girl always knows.” I’d take that to the bank ahead of any noticing of spirituality in someone’s face.
It’s a wildly melodramatic plot, with a young couple’s path to matrimony being blocked by a sinister conspiracy hatched in a far-off land (South Africa in this instance). It’s remarkable how often Doyle returned to this same situation. Luckily for the young lady here the bad guys have a falling out, with the nice one (the gentleman) not being able to bear the thought of the ruffian “owning” Miss Smith. By which he means marrying her. I don’t think there’s any irony intended in that verb. That’s what putting a ring on it meant in 1903.
So there are the aforementioned fisticuffs. And some bicycle chases through the countryside. And one great exchange at the end:
“You’re too late. She’s my wife.”
“No, she’s your widow.”
His revolver cracked, and I saw the blood spurt from the front of Woodley’s waistcoat.
Don’t worry, Woodley isn’t dead. But he’ll go to prison when he recovers. That comeback though should have been fatal.