A Scandal in Bohemia

36 min

I

1

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.

To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have rarely heard him call her anything else. In his eyes, she outshines and surpasses all other women. It was not that he felt anything like love for Irene Adler. His cold, precise, but admirably balanced mind found all emotions repugnant, especially love. In my view, he was the most perfect reasoning and observing machine the world has ever seen. But as a lover, he would have been out of place. He never spoke of the softer passions without mocking and sneering at them. For an observer, they were admirable things. They were excellent for revealing the motives behind men’s actions. But a trained reasoner could not let such feelings intrude on his own delicate, finely tuned nature without risking his conclusions. Strong emotion would have disturbed a nature like his as much as grit in a sensitive instrument. It would have been no less disturbing than a crack in one of his own high-power lenses. And yet, to him there was only one woman. That woman was the late Irene Adler, whose memory was of dubious and questionable character.

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.

I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drawn us apart. I was completely happy, and the concerns of a man newly in charge of his own home absorbed all my attention. Holmes, meanwhile, hated every form of social life with his whole Bohemian soul. He stayed in our Baker Street lodgings, buried among his old books. From week to week, he alternated between cocaine and ambition, between the drug’s drowsiness and his own sharp mind’s fierce energy. He was still as drawn as ever to the study of crime. He used his immense abilities and extraordinary powers of observation to follow clues and solve mysteries the police had abandoned as hopeless. From time to time, I heard vague reports of his activities. He had been called to Odessa in the Trepoff murder case. He had solved the strange tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee. Finally, he had carried out a mission for the reigning family of Holland with great delicacy and success. But these reports were available to every reader of the daily papers. Apart from them, 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.

One night, on March 20, 1888, I was returning from visiting a patient. I had returned to civilian medical practice, and my route took me through Baker Street. As I passed the familiar door, I thought of my courtship and the dark events of A Study in Scarlet. I would always associate the door with both. I felt a strong desire to see Holmes again and learn how he was using his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brightly lit. As I looked up, I saw his tall, thin figure pass twice in silhouette against the blind. He was pacing swiftly and eagerly, his head bowed and his hands clasped behind him. I knew his every mood and habit, and his posture and manner told me what was happening. He was at work again. He had emerged from his drug-induced dreams and was eagerly pursuing some new problem. I rang the bell and was shown upstairs to the room that had once been partly mine.

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.

His manner was not warm or enthusiastic. It seldom was, but I think he was glad to see me. He said hardly a word, but looked at me kindly. He waved me toward an armchair, tossed me his case of cigars, and pointed to the liquor and soda water in the corner. Then he stood before the fire and studied me in his unusually thoughtful way.

“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”

“Marriage suits you,” he said. “I think, Watson, that you’ve gained seven and a half pounds since I last 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.”

“Indeed, I would have thought a little more. Just a bit more, I think, Watson. And I see you are practicing medicine again. You did not tell me you intended to return to work.”

“Then, how do you know?”

“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?”

“I see it and draw a conclusion. How do I know you’ve been very wet lately and have a very clumsy, 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.”

“My dear Holmes,” I said, “this is too much. You would certainly have been burned if you had lived a few centuries ago. I did take a walk in the country on Thursday and came home in a terrible mess. But I’ve changed my clothes, so I can’t imagine how you figured that out. As for Mary Jane, she’s impossible to reform, and my wife has given her notice. But again, I can’t see how you worked that 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.”

“It is perfectly simple,” he said. “I can see six nearly parallel cuts on the inside of your left shoe, right where the firelight falls. Obviously, someone made them by carelessly scraping around the sole to remove caked mud. So you see how I reached two conclusions. You had been out in terrible weather, and you had a particularly vicious London maid who slashed boots. As for your practice, suppose a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform. He has a black mark of silver nitrate on his right forefinger. His top hat bulges on the right side, showing where he has hidden his stethoscope. I would have to be very dull indeed not to conclude that he was a practicing doctor.”

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.”

I couldn’t help laughing at how easily he explained his deductions. “When I hear your reasons,” I said, “it always seems so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself. Yet each time you reason something out, I’m baffled until you explain how you did it. And I believe 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.”

“Exactly,” he answered, lighting a cigarette and dropping into an armchair. “You see, but you don't observe. The difference is clear. For example, you have often seen the steps leading from the hall up to this room.”

“Frequently.”

“Often.”

“How often?”

“Well, some hundreds of times.”

“Well, a few hundred 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.”

“Exactly! You have seen the steps, but you have not observed them. That is just my point. I know there are seventeen steps because I have both seen and observed them. By the way, you are interested in these little problems. And you are kind enough to write about one or two of my minor experiences. So you may be interested in this.” He tossed over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper that had been lying open on the table. “It came in the latest mail,” he said. “Read it aloud.”

The note was undated, and without either signature or address.

The note had no date, 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.”

“A gentleman will call on you tonight at a quarter to eight,” it said. “He wishes to consult you about a matter of the utmost importance. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you can be trusted with matters whose importance can hardly be exaggerated. We have heard this about you from all sources. Be in your room at that hour, and do not be offended if your visitor wears a mask.”

“This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it means?”

“This really is a mystery,” I said. “What do you think 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 have no evidence yet. It is a serious mistake to form theories before you have evidence. Without realizing it, you begin to twist facts to fit theories, instead of theories to fit facts. But what about the note itself? What do you deduce from it?”

I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written.

I carefully examined the writing and the paper it was written on.

“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.”

“The man who wrote it was probably wealthy,” I said, trying to imitate my companion’s reasoning. “Paper like this would cost at least half a crown a packet. It is unusually 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.”

“Peculiar. That’s exactly the word,” said Holmes. “It’s not 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.

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 paper.

“What do you make of that?” asked Holmes.

“What do you think of that?” asked Holmes.

“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.”

“The maker’s name, no doubt. Or rather, his monogram.”

“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.

“Not at all. The ‘G’ with the small ‘t’ stands for ‘Gesellschaft,’ the German word for ‘Company.’ It is a common abbreviation, like our ‘Co.’ ‘P,’ of course, stands for ‘Papier.’ Now for the ‘Eg.’ Let’s look in our Continental Gazetteer.” He took a heavy brown volume from his shelves. “Eglow, Eglonitz, here we are, Egria. It is in Bohemia, a German-speaking country, not far from Carlsbad. ‘Notable as the place where Wallenstein died, and for its many glass factories and paper mills.’ Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of that?” His eyes sparkled, and he blew a great blue cloud of cigarette smoke into the air in triumph.

“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.”

“Exactly. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you notice the unusual sentence structure? ‘This account of you we have from all quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who treats his verbs so rudely. So we only need to discover what this German wants. He writes on Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I’m not mistaken, to clear up 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.

As he spoke, horses’ hooves clattered and wheels scraped against the curb. Then someone pulled the bell sharply. 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.”

“A pair of horses, by the sound,” he said. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out the window. “A nice little carriage and a pair of beautiful horses. A hundred and fifty guineas each. There’s money in this case, Watson, if nothing else.”

“I think that I had better go, Holmes.”

“I think I should 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.”

“Not at all, Doctor. Stay where you are. I’m lost without my Boswell. And this looks interesting. It would be a shame to miss it.”

“But your client—”

“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.”

“Never mind him. I may need your help, and he may too. Here he comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your full 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.

Slow, heavy footsteps had been heard on the stairs and in the hallway. They stopped just outside the door. Then came a loud, commanding knock.

“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.

A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches tall. He had the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His clothes were richly extravagant, in a way that would be considered almost bad taste in England. Heavy bands of astrakhan fur ran across the sleeves and front of his double-breasted coat. A deep blue cloak hung over his shoulders, lined with flame-colored silk. A brooch made from a single, blazing beryl fastened it at his neck. His boots reached halfway up his calves and were trimmed at the top with rich brown fur. They completed the impression of barbaric opulence suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand. A black mask covered the upper part of his face and extended below his cheekbones. He had apparently just put it in place, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of his face, he appeared to be a man of strong character. He had a thick, hanging lip and a long, straight chin that suggested determination pushed to the point of stubbornness.

“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.

“Did you get my note?” he asked in a deep, harsh voice with a strong German accent. “I told you I would come.” He looked from one of us to the other, as if unsure which of us 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?”

“Please take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. He kindly helps me with my cases from time to time. May I ask your name?”

“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.”

“You may call me Count Von Kramm. I am a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that your friend is an honorable and discreet man. I understand that I can trust him with a matter of extreme importance. If not, I would much prefer to speak 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.”

I got up to leave, but Holmes grabbed my wrist and pushed me back into my chair. “It’s both of us or neither,” he said. “You can say anything to me in front of this gentleman.”

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.”

The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” he said, “by requiring you both to keep this absolutely secret for two years. By then, the matter will no longer be important. But for now, it is no exaggeration to say that it may influence European history.”

“I promise,” said Holmes.

“And I.”

“And me.”

“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.”

“Please excuse the mask,” our strange visitor continued. “The distinguished person who employs me wishes to keep my identity from you. I can admit at once that the title I just gave you is not exactly my own.”

“I was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly.

“I knew that,” 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.”

“The situation is very delicate. Every precaution must be taken to prevent what could become an immense scandal. It could seriously compromise one of Europe’s reigning families. To speak plainly, the matter involves the great House of Ormstein, the hereditary kings of Bohemia.”

“I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes.

“I knew that too,” murmured Holmes, settling into 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.

Our visitor glanced with apparent surprise at the man lounging lazily before him. He had no doubt been told that Holmes was Europe’s sharpest thinker and most energetic agent. Holmes slowly opened his eyes again and looked impatiently at his giant client.

“If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, “I should be better able to advise you.”

“If your Majesty would explain your case,” he said, “I could advise you better.”

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?”

The man jumped from his chair and paced up and down the room, unable to control his agitation. Then, in desperation, he tore the mask from his face and threw it on the ground. “You are right,” he cried. “I am the King. Why should I try to hide 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.”

“Why, indeed?” murmured Holmes. “Your Majesty, I knew who you were before you spoke. You are 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.”

“But you can understand,” said our strange visitor. He sat down again and ran his hand over his high, pale forehead. “You can understand that I am not used to handling such business myself. But the matter was so delicate that I could not entrust it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague to consult you.”

“Then, pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.

“Then, please consult it,” said Holmes, closing his eyes again.

“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.”

“The facts are simple. About five years ago, during a long visit to Warsaw, I met the well-known adventuress Irene Adler. You no doubt know her name.”

“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.

“Please look her up in my index, Doctor,” murmured Holmes without opening his eyes. For many years, he had filed every newspaper item about people and things. As a result, it was hard to name a subject or person he could not immediately provide information about. I found her biography between those of a Hebrew rabbi and a staff-commander who had written a study of deep-sea fish.

“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.”

“Let me see!” said Holmes. “Hmm! Born in New Jersey in 1858. Contralto, hmm! La Scala, hmm! Prima donna at the Imperial Opera of Warsaw, yes! Retired from opera, ha! Living in London, quite right! Your Majesty, as I understand it, you became involved with this young woman. You wrote her some compromising letters, and now you want them back.”

“Precisely so. But how—”

“Exactly. 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?”

“Then I don’t understand, your Majesty. If this young woman produces her letters for blackmail or some other purpose, how can she prove they are genuine?”

“There is the writing.”

“There’s the writing.”

“Pooh, pooh! Forgery.”

“Pah! A forgery.”

“My private note-paper.”

“My personal stationery.”

“Stolen.”

“My own seal.”

“Imitated.”

“My photograph.”

“My photo.”

“Bought.”

“We were both in the photograph.”

“We were both in the photo.”

“Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion.”

“Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty, you have indeed made a mistake.”

“I was mad—insane.”

“I was mad, insane.”

“You have compromised yourself seriously.”

“You have put yourself in a very bad position.”

“I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now.”

“I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I’m only thirty now.”

“It must be recovered.”

“We must get it back.”

“We have tried and failed.”

“Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought.”

“She will not sell.”

“She won’t 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.”

“Five attempts have been made. Twice, burglars I paid searched her house. Once, we intercepted her luggage while she was traveling. Twice, she has been stopped on the road. None of these attempts worked.”

“No sign of it?”

“Absolutely none.”

Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he.

Holmes laughed. “It’s quite a neat little problem,” he said.

“But a very serious one to me,” returned the King reproachfully.

“But a very serious one to me,” the King replied reproachfully.

“Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?”

“Very much so. And what does she plan to do with the photograph?”

“To ruin me.”

“But how?”

“I am about to be married.”

“I’m about to get married.”

“So I have heard.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“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.”

“To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, the second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know how strict her family’s principles are. She herself is deeply sensitive. Even the slightest doubt about my conduct would end the matter.”

“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.”

“She threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know she will. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful woman and the mind of the most determined man. She would go to any lengths to stop me from marrying another woman. Any lengths.”

“You are sure that she has not sent it yet?”

“Are you sure she hasn't 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.”

“Because she said she would send it on the day the engagement was publicly announced. 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?”

“Oh, then we still have three days,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That is very fortunate, because I have one or two important matters to look into right now. Your Majesty will stay in London for now, of course?”

“Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count Von Kramm.”

“Certainly. You can find me at the Langham under the name Count Von Kramm.”

“Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress.”

“Then I’ll write to let you know how we’re doing.”

“Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety.”

“Please do. I'll be anxious to hear.”

“Then, as to money?”

“Then, what about money?”

“You have carte blanche.”

“You have complete freedom to act.”

“Absolutely?”

“I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph.”

“I tell you, I would give up one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph.”

“And for present expenses?”

“And for current expenses?”

The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table.

The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and placed it on the table.

“There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,” he said.

“There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in banknotes,” he said.

Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it to him.

Holmes scribbled a receipt on a sheet of paper from his notebook and handed it to him.

“And Mademoiselle’s address?” he asked.

“And what is the young lady’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?”

Holmes made a note of it. “One more question,” he said. “Was the photograph a cabinet card?”

“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.”

“Then, good night, your Majesty. I hope we will soon have some good news for you. And good night, Watson,” he added as the royal carriage rolled down the street. “Please call tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. I would like to talk this little matter over with you.”

II

2

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.

At exactly three o’clock, I arrived at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet returned. The landlady told me he had left shortly after eight that morning. Still, I sat down by the fire, intending to wait for him, however long he took. I was already deeply interested in his investigation. It lacked the grim and strange features of the two crimes I have already described. Even so, the nature of the case and his client’s high social position made it distinctive. But the investigation itself was not the only thing that interested me. Holmes’s masterly grasp of a situation and his sharp reasoning made it a pleasure to study his way of working. I enjoyed following the quick, subtle methods he used to unravel the most tangled mysteries. I was so used to his always succeeding that it no longer occurred to me he might fail.

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.

It was nearly four when the door opened and a groom walked into the room. He looked drunk and unkempt, with side whiskers, a flushed face, and shabby clothes. I was used to my friend’s amazing skill with disguises. Even so, I had to look three times before I was sure it was really him. He nodded and disappeared into the bedroom. Five minutes later, he emerged in a tweed suit, looking respectable again. He put his hands in his pockets, stretched his legs out in front of the fire, and laughed heartily for several 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.

“Well, really!” he cried. Then he choked and laughed again until he had to lie back in the chair, limp and helpless.

“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.”

“It’s so funny. I’m sure you could never guess how I spent my morning or what I ended up doing.”

“I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.”

“I can’t imagine. I suppose you’ve been watching Miss Irene Adler’s habits, and perhaps her house too.”

“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.

“Quite right, but what happened next was rather unusual. I’ll tell you. I left the house a little after eight this morning, disguised as an unemployed groom. There is a remarkable sense of fellowship among horsemen. Become one of them, and you will learn everything there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, two stories high, with a garden at the back. The front of the house stands right up against the road. The door has a Chubb lock. On the right is a large, well-furnished sitting room. Its long windows reach almost to the floor. They have those ridiculous English window fasteners that a child could open. There was nothing remarkable at the back, except that the passage window could be reached from the coach-house roof. I walked around the house and examined it closely from every angle, but noticed nothing 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.”

“I then wandered down the street. As I expected, I found a stable in a lane running alongside one wall of the garden. I helped the stable hands groom their horses. In return, I received two pennies, a glass of mixed beer, enough tobacco to fill a pipe twice, and all the information I could want about Miss Adler. I also had to listen to the life stories of half a dozen other people in the neighborhood, though I wasn't interested in them at all.”

“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked.

“And what about 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.

“Oh, she has turned the heads of all the men in that neighborhood. She is the loveliest woman on the planet. Every man in Serpentine-mews says so. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, goes for a drive at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. She rarely goes out at other times, except to sing. She has only one male visitor, but he visits often. He is dark, handsome, and dashing. He visits at least once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. You can see the advantage of taking a cabman into your confidence. The cabmen had driven him home from Serpentine-mews a dozen times and knew all about him. After listening to everything they had to tell me, I walked up and down near Briony Lodge again. As I walked, I thought over my plan of action.

“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.”

“Godfrey Norton was clearly important to the matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was his relationship with her? Why did he visit her so often? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If she was his client, she had probably given him the photograph for safekeeping. If she was his mistress, that was less likely. The answer would determine where I continued my work. Would it be at Briony Lodge or at the gentleman’s chambers in the Temple? It was a delicate question, and it widened my investigation. I fear these details bore you, but you need to see my little difficulties to understand the situation.”

“I am following you closely,” I answered.

“I’m following you closely,” I replied.

“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.

“I was still considering the matter when a hansom cab pulled up at Briony Lodge, and a gentleman jumped out. He was remarkably handsome, with dark features, a hooked nose, and a moustache. He was evidently the man I had heard about. He seemed to be in a great hurry and shouted to the cab driver to wait. When the maid opened the door, he brushed past her as if he felt completely 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!’

“He was in the house for about half an hour. I caught glimpses of him through the sitting-room windows, pacing, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. I couldn’t see her at all. Soon he came out, looking even more flustered than before. As he approached the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and checked it closely. ‘Drive like the devil,’ he shouted, ‘first to Gross & Hankey’s in Regent Street, 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.

“Away they went, and I was wondering whether I should follow them. Then a neat little carriage came up the lane. The coachman’s coat was only half-buttoned, and his tie was under his ear. All the loose ends of the harness were sticking out of their buckles. Before the carriage had stopped, she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her then, but she was a lovely woman, with a face a man might die for.

“‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.’

“‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a sovereign if you get there 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.

“This was too good a chance to miss, Watson. I was deciding whether to run or climb onto the back of her carriage when a cab came down the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby passenger, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of St. Monica,’ I said, ‘and half a sovereign if you get there in twenty minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was about to happen.

“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.

“My cab driver went fast. I don’t think I had ever traveled faster, but the others arrived before us. The cab and the landau were outside the door when I arrived, their horses steaming. I paid the driver and hurried into the church. No one was there except the two I had followed and a clergyman in a white robe. He seemed to be arguing with them. All three were standing together in front of the altar. I wandered up the side aisle like any other idler who had dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, all three turned toward me. Godfrey Norton came running toward me as fast as he could.

“‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’

“‘What then?’ I asked.

“‘What happened then?’ I asked.

“‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’

“‘Come on, man, hurry! Only three minutes left, 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.”

“I was half dragged up to the altar. Before I knew what was happening, I was mumbling responses whispered in my ear and confirming things I knew nothing about. In short, I was helping to tie Irene Adler, an unmarried woman, securely to Godfrey Norton, an unmarried man. It was all over in an instant. The gentleman was thanking me on one side, the lady on the other, and the clergyman was beaming at me from the front. It was the most absurd situation I had ever been in, and thinking of it made me laugh just now. It seems there had been some irregularity with their license. The clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some kind. My lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to go out into the streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I intend to wear it on my watch chain to remember the occasion.”

“This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what then?”

“This is a very unexpected turn of events,” I said. “What happened 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.”

“Well, I found that my plans were seriously threatened. It looked as if the pair might leave immediately. If they did, I would have to act quickly and decisively. At the church door, however, they parted. He drove back to the Temple, and she drove to her own house. ‘I’ll go for a drive 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?”

“What are they?”

“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.”

“Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the bell. “I’ve been too busy to think about food, and I’ll likely be even busier this evening. By the way, Doctor, I’ll need your help.”

“I shall be delighted.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“You don’t mind breaking the law?”

“Not in the least.”

“Not at all.”

“Nor running a chance of arrest?”

“And no risk of being arrested?”

“Not in a good cause.”

“Not for a good cause.”

“Oh, the cause is excellent!”

“Then I am your man.”

“Then I’m the man for you.”

“I was sure that I might rely on you.”

“I was sure I could count on you.”

“But what is it you wish?”

“But what do you want?”

“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.”

“When Mrs. Turner brings in the tray, I’ll explain it to you. Now,” he said, turning hungrily to the simple meal our landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat because I don’t have much time. It’s nearly five. We must be at the scene in two hours. Miss Irene, or rather Madame, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.”

“And what then?”

“And then what?”

“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?”

“You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what will happen. There is only one thing I must insist on. You must not interfere, no matter what happens. Do you understand?”

“I am to be neutral?”

“Am I supposed to stay 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.”

“Do nothing at all. There will probably be some minor trouble. Do not get involved. It will end with me being carried into the house. Four or five minutes later, the sitting-room window will open. Stand close to the open window.”

“Yes.”

“You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.”

“You must watch me, because you will be able to see me.”

“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?”

“And when I raise my hand like this, throw what I give you into the room. At the same time, shout ‘Fire!’ Do you understand?”

“Entirely.”

“Completely.”

“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?”

“It’s nothing very dangerous,” he said, taking a long, cigar-shaped roll from his pocket. “It’s an ordinary plumber’s smoke-rocket, with a cap at each end to make it self-lighting. That’s all you have to do. When you shout ‘fire,’ quite a number of people will take up the cry. You can then walk to the end of the street, and I’ll join you in ten minutes. I hope I’ve 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.”

“I am to stay neutral, get near the window, and watch you. At the signal, I am to throw in this object, shout ‘Fire!’ and wait for you at the street corner.”

“Precisely.”

“Exactly.”

“Then you may entirely rely on me.”

“Then you can count on me completely.”

“That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare for the new role I have to play.”

“That’s excellent. I think perhaps it’s almost time to 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.

He went into his bedroom and returned a few minutes later as a friendly, simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. He wore a broad black hat, baggy trousers, and a white tie. He had a sympathetic smile and a generally peering look of kind curiosity. Only Mr. John Hare could have matched him. Holmes did more than change his clothes. His expression, his manner, and his very soul seemed to change with every new role he took on. When he became a crime specialist, the stage lost a fine actor, just as science lost a sharp thinker.

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.

It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street. We reached Serpentine Avenue at ten minutes to seven. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lit. We walked up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for its occupant to arrive. The house was just as I had imagined it from Sherlock Holmes’ brief description, but the area seemed less private than I had expected. In fact, for a small street in a quiet neighborhood, it was remarkably lively. A group of shabbily dressed men were smoking and laughing in a corner. A scissors grinder stood with his wheel, and two guardsmen were flirting with a nursemaid. Several well-dressed young men were strolling 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?”

“You see,” said Holmes, as we walked back and forth in front of the house, “this marriage makes things a little simpler. The photograph is now a double-edged weapon. She probably wants to keep Mr. Godfrey Norton from seeing it, just as our client wants to keep it from his princess. Now the question is, where can we 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.”

“It is very unlikely that she carries it with her. It is cabinet size, too large to hide easily in a woman’s clothing. She knows that the King could have her stopped and searched. Two such attempts have already been made. So we can assume that she does not carry it with her.”

“Where, then?”

“Then where?”

“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.”

“Her banker or her lawyer. Those are the two possibilities. But I think it was probably neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like to hide things themselves. Why would she hand it over to anyone else? She could trust herself to guard it, but a businessman might be subject to indirect or political pressure. Besides, remember that she had decided to use it within a few days. It must be somewhere she can get her hands on it. It must be in her own house.”

“But it has twice been burgled.”

“But it has been broken into twice.”

“Pshaw! They did not know how to look.”

“Come on! They didn't know how to look.”

“But how will you look?”

“I will not look.”

“I won’t look.”

“What then?”

“What happened then?”

“I will get her to show me.”

“But she will refuse.”

“But she’ll 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.”

“She won't be able to. But I hear wheels rumbling. It's her carriage. Now follow my orders exactly.”

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.

As he spoke, the glow of a carriage’s side lamps appeared around the bend in the avenue. It was a stylish little landau, which rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it stopped, one of the men loitering on the corner dashed forward to open the door, hoping to earn a copper coin. But another loiterer, who had rushed up with the same intention, elbowed him aside. A fierce quarrel broke out. The two guardsmen made it worse by taking one man’s side, while the scissors grinder was just as eager to support the other. A blow was struck. In an instant, the lady, who had stepped out of her carriage, was surrounded by a small group of flushed, struggling men. They struck savagely at one another with their fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady. But just as he reached her, he cried out and fell to the ground, blood running freely down his face. When he fell, the guardsmen ran off in one direction and the loiterers in the other. Several better dressed people had watched the scuffle without joining in. Now they crowded forward to help the lady and attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps. But she stood at the top, her superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking back into the street.

“Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked.

“Is the poor man badly hurt?” she asked.

“He is dead,” cried several voices.

“He is dead,” several voices shouted.

“No, no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be gone before you can get him to hospital.”

“No, no, he’s alive!” shouted another. “But he’ll be dead before you can get him to the 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’s a brave man,” said a woman. “They would have taken 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?”

“He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, ma’am?”

“Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please!”

“Of course. Bring him into the living room. There's 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.

Slowly and solemnly, he was carried into Briony Lodge and laid on a couch in the main room. I continued to watch from my place by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds were still open, so I could see Holmes. I do not know whether he felt guilty at that moment about the role he was playing. But I had never felt more deeply ashamed of myself. I saw the beautiful woman I was plotting against, and the grace and kindness she showed as she tended the injured man. Yet backing out of the role Holmes had entrusted to me would be the worst kind of betrayal. I hardened my heart and took the smoke-rocket from under my overcoat. After all, I thought, we are not hurting her. We are only stopping her from hurting someone else.

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.

Holmes sat up on the couch, and I saw him gesture as if he needed air. A maid rushed across the room and threw open the window. At the same moment, Holmes raised his hand. At his signal, I tossed my rocket into the room and cried, “Fire!” As soon as I said it, the whole crowd of spectators joined in, shouting “Fire!” There were well-dressed people and poorly dressed people, gentlemen, stablemen, and servant maids. Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out of the open window. I caught a glimpse of people rushing about. A moment later, I heard Holmes assuring them from inside that it was a false alarm. I slipped through the shouting crowd and made my way to the street corner. Ten minutes later, I was delighted to have my friend’s arm in mine and to get away from the uproar. He walked swiftly and silently for a few minutes. Then we turned down one of the quiet streets leading towards the Edgeware Road.

“You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have been better. It is all right.”

“You did it very well, Doctor,” he said. “Nothing could have been better. It’s all right.”

“You have the photograph?”

“Do you have the photograph?”

“I know where it is.”

“And how did you find out?”

“She showed me, as I told you she would.”

“She showed me, just as I told you she would.”

“I am still in the dark.”

“I still don't understand.”

“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 don't want to make a mystery of it,” he said, laughing. “It was perfectly simple. Of course, you saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice. They had all been hired for the evening.”

“I guessed as much.”

“I thought so.”

“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.”

“Then, when the fight broke out, I had a little wet red paint in my palm. I rushed forward, fell down, and pressed my hand to my face. I looked like a pitiful sight. It’s an old trick.”

“That also I could fathom.”

“I could understand that too.”

“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.”

“Then they carried me inside. She had to let me in. What else could she do? They took me into her sitting room, which was one of the rooms I suspected. It was either there or in her bedroom, and I was determined to find out which. They laid me on a couch, and I gestured that I needed air. They had 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.”

“It was essential. When a woman thinks her house is on fire, she instinctively rushes to what she values most. The impulse is completely overwhelming, and I have taken advantage of it more than once. It helped me in the Darlington Substitution Scandal and in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs her baby. An unmarried woman reaches for her jewel box. Now, it was clear to me that our lady today had nothing in the house more precious than what we were looking for. She would rush to secure it. “The fire alarm was brilliantly 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 reached it in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of the photograph as she half pulled it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she put it back. She glanced at the rocket and rushed from the room. I have not seen her since. “I got up, made my excuses, and left the house. I hesitated over whether to try to get the photograph at once. But the coachman had come in and was watching me closely, so it seemed safer to wait. A little too much haste may ruin everything.”

“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.”

“Our search is practically over. I’ll visit with the King tomorrow, and you can come with us if you like. We’ll be shown into the sitting room to wait for the lady. But when she comes, she probably won’t find us or the photograph there. His Majesty might find it satisfying to get the photograph back 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.”

“At eight in the morning. She won’t be up, so we’ll have a clear field. Besides, we must act quickly. This marriage may completely change her life and habits. I must send a telegram 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:

We had reached Baker Street and stopped at the door. He was looking through his pockets for the key when a passerby said:

“Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.”

“Good night, Mr. 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.

There were several people on the sidewalk at the time. But the greeting seemed to come from a slim young man in an overcoat who had hurried past.

“I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”

“I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who on earth that could have been.”

III

3

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.

I slept at Baker Street that night. The next morning, we were eating toast and drinking coffee 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.

“You really have it!” he cried, grabbing Sherlock Holmes by both shoulders and looking eagerly into his face.

“Not yet.”

“But you have hopes?”

“But you’re hopeful?”

“I have hopes.”

“I’m hopeful.”

“Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.”

“Then come. I can’t wait to leave.”

“We must have a cab.”

“We need a cab.”

“No, my brougham is waiting.”

“No, my carriage is waiting.”

“Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off once more for Briony Lodge.

“Then that will make things easier.” We went down and set off again for Briony Lodge.

“Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes.

“Irene Adler is married,” said Holmes.

“Married! When?”

“Yesterday.”

“But to whom?”

“But to who?”

“To an English lawyer named Norton.”

“But she could not love him.”

“I am in hopes that she does.”

“I hope she does.”

“And why in hopes?”

“And why are you hopeful?”

“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.”

“Because it would spare Your Majesty all fear of trouble in the future. If she loves her husband, she does not love Your Majesty. If she does not love Your Majesty, she has no reason to interfere with your 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.

“It is true. And yet... Well! I wish she had been of my own social rank! What a queen she would have made!” He fell into a gloomy silence and said nothing more until we arrived at 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.

The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood on the steps. She watched us with a mocking look as we stepped out of the carriage.

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she.

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” she said.

“I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a questioning and rather startled gaze.

“I am Mr. Holmes,” my companion replied, looking at her with a questioning, slightly startled expression.

“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.”

“Really? My employer told me you might come by. She and her husband left this morning on the 5:15 train from Charing Cross to continental Europe.”

“What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?”

“What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, pale with frustration and surprise. “Do you mean she has left England?”

“Never to return.”

“Never to come back.”

“And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.”

“And the papers?” asked the King in a hoarse voice. “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:

“We shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing room. The King and I followed him. Furniture was scattered everywhere, shelves had been taken apart, and drawers stood open. It looked as if the lady had hurriedly searched through everything before fleeing. Holmes rushed to the bell pull and pulled back a small sliding shutter. He reached inside and pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph showed Irene Adler herself in evening dress. The letter was addressed to “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for.” My friend tore it open, and all three of us read it together. It was dated midnight the previous night and read as follows:

“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,

“MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES, you really did it very well. You fooled me completely. I suspected nothing until after the fire alarm. But then I realized how I had given myself away, and I began to think. I had been warned about you months ago. I had been told that if the King hired an agent, it would certainly be you. I had also been given your address. Yet, despite all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I grew suspicious, I found it hard to think badly of such a dear, kind old clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Dressing as a man is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom it gives me. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you and ran upstairs. I put on my walking clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you left. “Well, I followed you to your door. That confirmed that the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes really was interested in me. Then I rather foolishly wished you good night and went to the Temple to see my husband. “We both thought it best to flee, since such a formidable opponent was pursuing us. So you will find the nest empty when you call tomorrow. As for the photograph, your client can rest easy. I love a better man than the King, and that man loves me. The King may do as he pleases without interference from the woman he has cruelly wronged. I keep the photograph only to protect myself. It is a weapon that will always protect me against any steps he might take in the future. I leave a photograph that he might care to have, and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,

“Very truly yours, “IRENE NORTON, née ADLER.”

“Yours sincerely, “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?”

“What a woman, oh, what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, after all three of us had read the letter. “Didn't I tell you how quick and determined she was? Wouldn't she have made a wonderful queen? Isn't it a pity she wasn't of my rank?”

“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.”

“From what I’ve seen of the lady, she does seem to be on a very different level from Your Majesty,” Holmes said coldly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t 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.”

“On the contrary, my dear sir,” cried the King, “nothing could have gone better. I know she always keeps her word. The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire.”

“I am glad to hear your Majesty say so.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Your Majesty.”

“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.

“I’m deeply grateful to you. Please tell me how I can reward you. This ring...” He slipped an emerald snake ring off his finger and held it out on his palm.

“Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly,” said Holmes.

“Your Majesty has something I would value even more,” said Holmes.

“You have but to name it.”

“All you have to do is name it.”

“This photograph!”

The King stared at him in amazement.

“Irene’s photograph!” he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.”

“Irene’s photograph!” he cried. “Of course, if you want 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.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Then there is nothing more to be done about the matter. I wish you a very good morning.” He bowed and turned away without noticing the hand the King had held out to him. Then he left with me for his rooms.

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.

And that was how a great scandal threatened the kingdom of Bohemia, and how a woman’s wit defeated Mr. Sherlock Holmes’s best plans. He used to make fun of women’s cleverness, but I have not heard him do so lately. And whenever he speaks of Irene Adler or mentions her photograph, he always gives her the honorable title of the woman.