"What can you say about this gentleman, Watson?"

I tried to picture the man who spent the better half of the past hour regaling us with tales of his misfortune.

"Well, he is a portly fellow," said I.

"Anything else?", asked Holmes, yawning.

"I can not think of anything."

"He is Jewish, Watson."

"You are certainly joking, Holmes."

"On the contrary, dear Watson. You are too timid in drawing your inferences."

"Then how do you infer that, Holmes? You are not Jewish yourself? You never join me in church."

"That is quite absurd, Watson. I am agnostic, not Jewish."

"Then how?"

"His hat, Watson."

The man wore a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape.

"Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?"

"He did not take it off when Mrs. Hudson came in to serve tea."

"No, he did not. To not remove your hat in front of a woman! Quite rude."

"Not in this case, Watson. For our visitor is quite a refined gentleman. His cufflinks alone are worth more than your entire wardrobe."

"I must confess that I am unable to follow you."

"Jews, dear Watson, do not remove their hats, even when they are indoors."

"Astonishing, Holmes!"

"Indeed, Watson."

He paused, puffing at his pipe and gazing down into the fire.

"So what does him being Jewish have to do with the case?", I asked.

"Everything, Watson. Everything."