From goodpenmanship: Hunting a jewel thief.
"So James Ryder has struck again," I said, looking at the empty jewel case. "I thought he had fled to the Continent."
"So did I," Holmes said. He looked from the empty box to the monogrammed cufflinks, then to the signed note. "I doubt, however, that this is he, unless he has changed a great deal in the intervening years. His handling of the blue carbuncle was panicked, ill-thought. A note taunting the police would have been utterly outside his purview." He glanced back at Mrs. Oakenshaw, still weeping into her handkerchief. "It is far more likely that someone who has read your stories in The Strand has adopted James Ryder's name for purposes of their own. In which case, the note is not truly a taunt to the police." His nostrils flared; his eyes blazed with excitement. "It is a taunt to me."
"And if you're wrong?" I said somewhat idly, following him outside. I agreed with his assessment; I could not see the cringing little man I remembered committing such a brazen crime. "If James Ryder has indeed become a hardened criminal as you sought to prevent by letting him go?"
"This thief," Holmes said, "whoever he is, killed Mr. Oakenshaw when he attempted to prevent the theft of his wife's jewels." Holmes' eyes narrowed. "He shall have no mercy from me."
