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- Title: A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
- Author: Arthur Conan Doyle
- I.
- To Sherlock Holmes she is always _the_ woman. I have seldom heard him
- mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and
- predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion
- akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly,
- were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He
- was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that
- the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a
- false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe
- and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for
- drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained
- reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely
- adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might
- throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive
- instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not
- be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And
- yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene
- Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.
- I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away
- from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred
- interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master
- of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention,
- while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian
- soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old
- books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition,
- the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen
- nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime,
- and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of
- observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those
- mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police.
- From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his
- summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up
- of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and
- finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and
- successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of
- his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of
- the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.
- One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was returning from a
- journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when
- my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered
- door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and
- with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a
- keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his
- extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I
- looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette
- against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his
- head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who
- knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own
- story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created
- dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell
- and was shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own.
- His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think,
- to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved
- me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a
- spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire
- and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion.
- “Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put
- on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”
- “Seven!” I answered.
- “Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I
- fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me
- that you intended to go into harness.”
- “Then, how do you know?”
- “I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting
- yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless
- servant girl?”
- “My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have
- been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a
- country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I
- have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary
- Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there,
- again, I fail to see how you work it out.”
- He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together.
- “It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the inside
- of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is
- scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by
- someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in
- order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double
- deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a
- particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As
- to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of
- iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right
- forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where
- he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not
- pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession.”
- I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his
- process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I remarked,
- “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I
- could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your
- reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I
- believe that my eyes are as good as yours.”
- “Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself
- down into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. The
- distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps
- which lead up from the hall to this room.”
- “Frequently.”
- “How often?”
- “Well, some hundreds of times.”
- “Then how many are there?”
- “How many? I don’t know.”
- “Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just
- my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have
- both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested in these
- little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two
- of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this.” He threw
- over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper which had been lying open
- upon the table. “It came by the last post,” said he. “Read it aloud.”
- The note was undated, and without either signature or address.
- “There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o’clock,” it
- said, “a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very
- deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of
- Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with
- matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated.
- This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your
- chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor
- wear a mask.”
- “This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it
- means?”
- “I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has
- data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of
- theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce from
- it?”
- I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was
- written.
- “The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked,
- endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper could not
- be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and
- stiff.”
- “Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English
- paper at all. Hold it up to the light.”
- I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a large “G”
- with a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper.
- “What do you make of that?” asked Holmes.
- “The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.”
- “Not at all. The ‘G’ with the small ‘t’ stands for ‘Gesellschaft,’
- which is the German for ‘Company.’ It is a customary contraction like
- our ‘Co.’ ‘P,’ of course, stands for ‘Papier.’ Now for the ‘Eg.’ Let us
- glance at our Continental Gazetteer.” He took down a heavy brown volume
- from his shelves. “Eglow, Eglonitz—here we are, Egria. It is in a
- German-speaking country—in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. ‘Remarkable
- as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous
- glass-factories and paper-mills.’ Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of
- that?” His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud
- from his cigarette.
- “The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said.
- “Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the
- peculiar construction of the sentence—‘This account of you we have from
- all quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian could not have written
- that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only
- remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who
- writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his
- face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our
- doubts.”
- As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses’ hoofs and grating
- wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes
- whistled.
- “A pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out of
- the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred
- and fifty guineas apiece. There’s money in this case, Watson, if there
- is nothing else.”
- “I think that I had better go, Holmes.”
- “Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell.
- And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it.”
- “But your client—”
- “Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes.
- Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention.”
- A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the
- passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and
- authoritative tap.
- “Come in!” said Holmes.
- A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches
- in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich
- with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad
- taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and
- fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was
- thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured silk and
- secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming
- beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were
- trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of
- barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance. He
- carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the upper
- part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black vizard
- mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for his hand
- was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of the face
- he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, hanging lip,
- and a long, straight chin suggestive of resolution pushed to the length
- of obstinacy.
- “You had my note?” he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly
- marked German accent. “I told you that I would call.” He looked from
- one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address.
- “Pray take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and colleague, Dr.
- Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom
- have I the honour to address?”
- “You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I
- understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and
- discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme
- importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you
- alone.”
- I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into
- my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say before this
- gentleman anything which you may say to me.”
- The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said he,
- “by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of
- that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too
- much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon
- European history.”
- “I promise,” said Holmes.
- “And I.”
- “You will excuse this mask,” continued our strange visitor. “The august
- person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may
- confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is
- not exactly my own.”
- “I was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly.
- “The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to
- be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and
- seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak
- plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary
- kings of Bohemia.”
- “I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down in
- his armchair and closing his eyes.
- Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid,
- lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as the
- most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes
- slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client.
- “If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, “I
- should be better able to advise you.”
- The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in
- uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore
- the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. “You are right,”
- he cried; “I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?”
- “Why, indeed?” murmured Holmes. “Your Majesty had not spoken before I
- was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von
- Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of
- Bohemia.”
- “But you can understand,” said our strange visitor, sitting down once
- more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, “you can
- understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own
- person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to
- an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come _incognito_
- from Prague for the purpose of consulting you.”
- “Then, pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.
- “The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy
- visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress,
- Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.”
- “Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor,” murmured Holmes without
- opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing
- all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to
- name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish
- information. In this case I found her biography sandwiched in between
- that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff-commander who had written a
- monograph upon the deep-sea fishes.
- “Let me see!” said Holmes. “Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858.
- Contralto—hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw—yes!
- Retired from operatic stage—ha! Living in London—quite so! Your
- Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person,
- wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting
- those letters back.”
- “Precisely so. But how—”
- “Was there a secret marriage?”
- “None.”
- “No legal papers or certificates?”
- “None.”
- “Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should
- produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to
- prove their authenticity?”
- “There is the writing.”
- “Pooh, pooh! Forgery.”
- “My private note-paper.”
- “Stolen.”
- “My own seal.”
- “Imitated.”
- “My photograph.”
- “Bought.”
- “We were both in the photograph.”
- “Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an
- indiscretion.”
- “I was mad—insane.”
- “You have compromised yourself seriously.”
- “I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now.”
- “It must be recovered.”
- “We have tried and failed.”
- “Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought.”
- “She will not sell.”
- “Stolen, then.”
- “Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her
- house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has
- been waylaid. There has been no result.”
- “No sign of it?”
- “Absolutely none.”
- Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he.
- “But a very serious one to me,” returned the King reproachfully.
- “Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?”
- “To ruin me.”
- “But how?”
- “I am about to be married.”
- “So I have heard.”
- “To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of
- Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is
- herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct
- would bring the matter to an end.”
- “And Irene Adler?”
- “Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that
- she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She
- has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most
- resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no
- lengths to which she would not go—none.”
- “You are sure that she has not sent it yet?”
- “I am sure.”
- “And why?”
- “Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the
- betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.”
- “Oh, then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That is
- very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into
- just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the
- present?”
- “Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count
- Von Kramm.”
- “Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress.”
- “Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety.”
- “Then, as to money?”
- “You have _carte blanche_.”
- “Absolutely?”
- “I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to
- have that photograph.”
- “And for present expenses?”
- The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid
- it on the table.
- “There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,” he
- said.
- Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it
- to him.
- “And Mademoiselle’s address?” he asked.
- “Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John’s Wood.”
- Holmes took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the
- photograph a cabinet?”
- “It was.”
- “Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have
- some good news for you. And good-night, Watson,” he added, as the
- wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. “If you will be
- good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o’clock I should like
- to chat this little matter over with you.”
- II.
- At three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not
- yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house
- shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire,
- however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be.
- I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was
- surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which were
- associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded, still,
- the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave it a
- character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the
- investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his
- masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which
- made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the
- quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable
- mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the very
- possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head.
- It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking
- groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and
- disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my
- friend’s amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three
- times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he
- vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes
- tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his
- pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed
- heartily for some minutes.
- “Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until he
- was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair.
- “What is it?”
- “It’s quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed
- my morning, or what I ended by doing.”
- “I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and
- perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.”
- “Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however.
- I left the house a little after eight o’clock this morning in the
- character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and
- freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all
- that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a _bijou_
- villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to
- the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on
- the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor,
- and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could
- open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window
- could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and
- examined it closely from every point of view, but without noting
- anything else of interest.
- “I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there
- was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent
- the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in
- exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two fills of shag tobacco,
- and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say
- nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was
- not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to
- listen to.”
- “And what of Irene Adler?” I asked.
- “Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is the
- daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the
- Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives
- out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom
- goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male
- visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing,
- never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey
- Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a
- confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews,
- and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I
- began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think
- over my plan of campaign.
- “This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter.
- He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between
- them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client,
- his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably
- transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less
- likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should
- continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the
- gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it
- widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these
- details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are
- to understand the situation.”
- “I am following you closely,” I answered.
- “I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up
- to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably
- handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of whom
- I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman
- to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of
- a man who was thoroughly at home.
- “He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of
- him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking
- excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently
- he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to
- the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it
- earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,’ he shouted, ‘first to Gross &
- Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the
- Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!’
- “Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well
- to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman
- with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all
- the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn’t
- pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only
- caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with
- a face that a man might die for.
- “‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a sovereign if
- you reach it in twenty minutes.’
- “This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether
- I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when a
- cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby
- fare, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of St.
- Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty
- minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was
- clear enough what was in the wind.
- “My cabby drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the others
- were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming horses
- were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried
- into the church. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had
- followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with
- them. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I
- lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a
- church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to
- me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me.
- “‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’
- “‘What then?’ I asked.
- “‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’
- “I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I
- found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and
- vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in
- the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton,
- bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman
- thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the
- clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous position
- in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it
- that started me laughing just now. It seems that there had been some
- informality about their license, that the clergyman absolutely refused
- to marry them without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky
- appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the
- streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I
- mean to wear it on my watch chain in memory of the occasion.”
- “This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what then?”
- “Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the
- pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt
- and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they
- separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. ‘I
- shall drive out in the park at five as usual,’ she said as she left
- him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I
- went off to make my own arrangements.”
- “Which are?”
- “Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the bell. “I
- have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still
- this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation.”
- “I shall be delighted.”
- “You don’t mind breaking the law?”
- “Not in the least.”
- “Nor running a chance of arrest?”
- “Not in a good cause.”
- “Oh, the cause is excellent!”
- “Then I am your man.”
- “I was sure that I might rely on you.”
- “But what is it you wish?”
- “When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you.
- Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our
- landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not
- much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene
- of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at
- seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.”
- “And what then?”
- “You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur.
- There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere,
- come what may. You understand?”
- “I am to be neutral?”
- “To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small
- unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed
- into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window
- will open. You are to station yourself close to that open window.”
- “Yes.”
- “You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.”
- “Yes.”
- “And when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what I give
- you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire. You
- quite follow me?”
- “Entirely.”
- “It is nothing very formidable,” he said, taking a long cigar-shaped
- roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber’s smoke-rocket, fitted
- with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task is
- confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up
- by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end of the
- street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made
- myself clear?”
- “I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at
- the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and
- to wait you at the corner of the street.”
- “Precisely.”
- “Then you may entirely rely on me.”
- “That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare
- for the new role I have to play.”
- He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the
- character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His
- broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic
- smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such
- as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that
- Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul
- seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a
- fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a
- specialist in crime.
- It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still
- wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine
- Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as
- we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming
- of its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it from
- Sherlock Holmes’ succinct description, but the locality appeared to be
- less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small street in a
- quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a group of
- shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a
- scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a
- nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and
- down with cigars in their mouths.
- “You see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the
- house, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph becomes
- a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be as averse
- to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is to its coming
- to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is, Where are we to find
- the photograph?”
- “Where, indeed?”
- “It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinet
- size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman’s dress. She knows
- that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched. Two
- attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it, then, that
- she does not carry it about with her.”
- “Where, then?”
- “Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am
- inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like
- to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else?
- She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what
- indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a
- business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within
- a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be
- in her own house.”
- “But it has twice been burgled.”
- “Pshaw! They did not know how to look.”
- “But how will you look?”
- “I will not look.”
- “What then?”
- “I will get her to show me.”
- “But she will refuse.”
- “She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her
- carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.”
- As he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the
- curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to
- the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at
- the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a
- copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with
- the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by
- the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the
- scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was
- struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage,
- was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who
- struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes
- dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as he reached her,
- he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely
- down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels in one
- direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better
- dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it,
- crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene
- Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she
- stood at the top with her superb figure outlined against the lights of
- the hall, looking back into the street.
- “Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked.
- “He is dead,” cried several voices.
- “No, no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be gone
- before you can get him to hospital.”
- “He’s a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the lady’s
- purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him. They were a gang, and a
- rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.”
- “He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?”
- “Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa.
- This way, please!”
- Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the
- principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by
- the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn,
- so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know
- whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he
- was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of
- myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I
- was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon
- the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes
- to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened
- my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I
- thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from
- injuring another.
- Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who
- is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At
- the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed my
- rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The word was no sooner out
- of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and
- ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and servant maids—joined in a general shriek of
- “Fire!” Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the
- open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later
- the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false
- alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner
- of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend’s arm
- in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly
- and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down one of the
- quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road.
- “You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have been
- better. It is all right.”
- “You have the photograph?”
- “I know where it is.”
- “And how did you find out?”
- “She showed me, as I told you she would.”
- “I am still in the dark.”
- “I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter was
- perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was
- an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening.”
- “I guessed as much.”
- “Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the
- palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my
- face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.”
- “That also I could fathom.”
- “Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could
- she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I
- suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to
- see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were
- compelled to open the window, and you had your chance.”
- “How did that help you?”
- “It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire,
- her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It
- is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken
- advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington Substitution Scandal it
- was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married
- woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box.
- Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house
- more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to
- secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting
- were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The
- photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right
- bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as
- she half drew it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she
- replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have
- not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the
- house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once;
- but the coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly, it
- seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all.”
- “And now?” I asked.
- “Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King
- to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown
- into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that
- when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be
- a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands.”
- “And when will you call?”
- “At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a
- clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a
- complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without
- delay.”
- We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was
- searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said:
- “Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.”
- There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting
- appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by.
- “I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit
- street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”
- III.
- I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast
- and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the
- room.
- “You have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either
- shoulder and looking eagerly into his face.
- “Not yet.”
- “But you have hopes?”
- “I have hopes.”
- “Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.”
- “We must have a cab.”
- “No, my brougham is waiting.”
- “Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off once
- more for Briony Lodge.
- “Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes.
- “Married! When?”
- “Yesterday.”
- “But to whom?”
- “To an English lawyer named Norton.”
- “But she could not love him.”
- “I am in hopes that she does.”
- “And why in hopes?”
- “Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If
- the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she does
- not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with
- your Majesty’s plan.”
- “It is true. And yet—! Well! I wish she had been of my own station!
- What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into a moody silence,
- which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue.
- The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the
- steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the
- brougham.
- “Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she.
- “I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a
- questioning and rather startled gaze.
- “Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left
- this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for
- the Continent.”
- “What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and
- surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?”
- “Never to return.”
- “And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.”
- “We shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the
- drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was
- scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open
- drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight.
- Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and,
- plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The
- photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was
- superscribed to “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for.” My
- friend tore it open, and we all three read it together. It was dated at
- midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way:
- “MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,—You really did it very well. You took
- me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a
- suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I
- began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had
- been told that, if the King employed an agent, it would certainly
- be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you
- made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became
- suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old
- clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself.
- Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the
- freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you,
- ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call them, and came
- down just as you departed.
- “Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was
- really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
- Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for
- the Temple to see my husband.
- “We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so
- formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you
- call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in
- peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do
- what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly
- wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a
- weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might
- take in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to
- possess; and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
- “Very truly yours,
- “IRENE NORTON, _née_ ADLER.”
- “What a woman—oh, what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, when we had
- all three read this epistle. “Did I not tell you how quick and resolute
- she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it not a pity
- that she was not on my level?”
- “From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a very
- different level to your Majesty,” said Holmes coldly. “I am sorry that
- I have not been able to bring your Majesty’s business to a more
- successful conclusion.”
- “On the contrary, my dear sir,” cried the King; “nothing could be more
- successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph is now as
- safe as if it were in the fire.”
- “I am glad to hear your Majesty say so.”
- “I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward
- you. This ring—” He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and
- held it out upon the palm of his hand.
- “Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly,”
- said Holmes.
- “You have but to name it.”
- “This photograph!”
- The King stared at him in amazement.
- “Irene’s photograph!” he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.”
- “I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter.
- I have the honour to wish you a very good morning.” He bowed, and,
- turning away without observing the hand which the King had stretched
- out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers.
- And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of
- Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a
- woman’s wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but I
- have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, or
- when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honourable
- title of _the_ woman.
|