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<pre>
Project Gutenberg's Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, by A. Conan Doyle
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
Title: Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
Illustrated
Author: A. Conan Doyle
Release Date: February 20, 2015 [EBook #48320]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES ***
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)
</pre>
<div class="hide">
<p class="center">Ebook cover prepared by the transcriber and placed in the public domain.</p>
</div>
<div class="hidehand">
<div class="figcenter fig504">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="504" height="800" alt="Cover" />
</div>
</div>
<h1>ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES</h1>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter fig400"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a>
<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="392" height="576" alt="Frontispiece" />
<div class="caption nomb">“THE GENTLEMAN IN THE PEW HANDED IT UP TO HER”</div>
<div class="caption2 nomt right">[Page 238</div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p class="title"><span class="p150">ADVENTURES</span><br />
<br />
OF<br />
<br />
<span class="p200">SHERLOCK HOLMES</span></p>
<p class="title mt4">BY<br />
<span class="p150">A. CONAN DOYLE</span><br />
<small>AUTHOR OF “MICAH CLARKE” ETC.</small></p>
<p class="title mt4"><small>ILLUSTRATED</small></p>
<div class="figcenter fig120">
<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="120" height="139" alt="Logo" />
</div>
<p class="title mt4">NEW YORK<br />
HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE
</p>
<p class="title mt4">Copyright, 1892, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p>
<hr class="line" />
<p class="title"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
<table summary="contents">
<tr>
<th colspan="3" class="tdr2">PAGE</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr">I.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#i">3</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr">II.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ii">29</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> III.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—A CASE OF IDENTITY</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iii">56</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> IV.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iv">76</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> V.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE FIVE ORANGE PIPS</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#v">104</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> VI.</td>
<td class="tdlv">—THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vi">126</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> VII.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vii">153</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> VIII.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#viii">176</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> IX.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENGINEER’S THUMB</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ix">205</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> X.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELOR</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#x">229</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> XI.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE ADVENTURE OF THE BERYL CORONET</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xi">253</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"> XII.</td>
<td class="tdl hang">—THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES</td>
<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xii">280</a></td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="Illustrations" id="Illustrations"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
<table summary="Illustrations">
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“THE GENTLEMAN IN THE PEW HANDED IT UP TO HER”</td>
<td class="tdr3" colspan="2"><a href="#frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“A MAN ENTERED”</td>
<td class="tdc"><i>Facing p.</i></td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#man">8</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“THE DOOR WAS SHUT AND LOCKED”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#door">40</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“ALL AFTERNOON HE SAT IN THE STALLS”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#all">46</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“SHERLOCK HOLMES WELCOMED HER”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#sherlock">60</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“GLANCING ABOUT HIM LIKE A RAT IN A TRAP”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#glancing">72</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“THEY FOUND THE BODY”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#they">80</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“THE MAID SHOWED US THE BOOTS”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#maid">92</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“‘HOLMES,’ I CRIED, ‘YOU ARE TOO LATE’”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#holmes2">122</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“AT THE FOOT OF THE STAIRS SHE MET THIS LASCAR SCOUNDREL”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#at">134</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“‘HAVE MERCY!’ HE SHRIEKED”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#have">172</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“‘GOOD-BYE, AND BE BRAVE’”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#good">196</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“‘NOT A WORD TO A SOUL’”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#not">214</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“‘I WILL WISH YOU ALL A VERY GOOD NIGHT’”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#will">250</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“I CLAPPED A PISTOL TO HIS HEAD”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#clapped">278</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hang">“‘I AM SO DELIGHTED THAT YOU HAVE COME’”</td>
<td class="tdc">″</td>
<td class="tdr3"><a href="#delighted">292</a></td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES<br />
<br />
<a class="pagenum" name="Page_3" title="3"> </a>
<a name="i" id="i"></a><span class="ornate">Adventure I</span><br />
A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA</h2>
<h3>I</h3>
<div class="fig100">
<img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.jpg" width="100" height="101" alt="" />
</div>
<p class="first-para drop-cap">TO Sherlock Holmes she is always <em>the</em> 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.</p>
<p>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<a class="pagenum" name="Page_4" title="4"> </a> 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.</p>
<p>One night—it was on the 20th 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 arisen 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.</p>
<p>His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was<a class="pagenum" name="Page_5" title="5"> </a> glad, I think,
to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved
me to an arm-chair, 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.</p>
<p>“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put
on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”</p>
<p>“Seven!” I answered.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“Then, how do you know?”</p>
<p>“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?”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together.</p>
<p>“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 <a name="parallel" id="parallel"></a><ins title="Original had paralled">parallel</ins> cuts. Obviously they have
been caused by some one 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 side of his top-hat to show where
he has secreted his stethoscope, I<a class="pagenum" name="Page_6" title="6"> </a> must be dull, indeed, if I do not
pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself
down into an arm-chair. “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.”</p>
<p>“Frequently.”</p>
<p>“How often?”</p>
<p>“Well, some hundreds of times.”</p>
<p>“Then how many are there?”</p>
<p>“How many? I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“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 note-paper which had been lying open
upon the table. “It came by the last post,” said he. “Read it aloud.”</p>
<p>The note was undated, and without either signature or address.</p>
<p>“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<a class="pagenum" name="Page_7" title="7"> </a> your
chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor
wear a mask.”</p>
<p>“This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it
means?”</p>
<p>“I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize 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?”</p>
<p>I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was
written.</p>
<p>“The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked,
endeavoring to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper could not
be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and
stiff.”</p>
<p>“Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English
paper at all. Hold it up to the light.”</p>
<p>I did so, and saw a large <i>E</i> with a small <i>g</i>, a <i>P</i>, and a large <i>G</i>
with a small <i>t</i> woven into the texture of the paper.</p>
<p>“What do you make of that?” asked Holmes.</p>
<p>“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.”</p>
<p>“Not at all. The <i>G</i> with the small <i>t</i> stands for ‘Gesellschaft,’
which is the German for ‘Company.’ It is a customary contraction like
our ‘Co.’ <i>P</i>, of course, stands for ‘Papier.’ Now for the <i>Eg</i>. 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.</p>
<p>“The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said.</p>
<p>“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<a class="pagenum" name="Page_8" title="8"> </a> 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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“I think that I had better go, Holmes.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“But your client—”</p>
<p>“Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes.
Sit down in that arm-chair, doctor, and give us your best attention.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“Come in!” said Holmes.</p>
<div class="figcenter fig296"><a name="man" id="man"></a>
<img src="images/illus008a.jpg" width="296" height="600" alt="" />
<div class="caption">“A MAN ENTERED”</div>
</div>
<p>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-colored silk, and
secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming
beryl. Boots which extended half-way up his calves, and which were
trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of
barbaric<a class="pagenum" name="Page_9" title="9"> </a> 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.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>“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 honor to address?”</p>
<p>“You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman.
I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honor
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.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“I promise,” said Holmes.</p>
<p>“And I.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_10" title="10"> </a>
“I was aware of it,” said Holmes, dryly.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down in
his arm-chair and closing his eyes.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, “I
should be better able to advise you.”</p>
<p>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?”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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 <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">incognito</i>
from Prague for the purpose of consulting you.”</p>
<p>“Then, pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.</p>
<p>“The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy
visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_11" title="11"> </a> well-known
adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.”</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“Precisely so. But how—”</p>
<p>“Was there a secret marriage?”</p>
<p>“None.”</p>
<p>“No legal papers or certificates?”</p>
<p>“None.”</p>
<p>“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?”</p>
<p>“There is the writing.”</p>
<p>“Pooh, pooh! Forgery.”</p>
<p>“My private note-paper.”</p>
<p>“Stolen.”</p>
<p>“My own seal.”</p>
<p>“Imitated.”</p>
<p>“My photograph.”</p>
<p>“Bought.”</p>
<p>“We were both in the photograph.”</p>
<p>“Oh dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an
indiscretion.”</p>
<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_12" title="12"> </a>
“I was mad—insane.”</p>
<p>“You have compromised yourself seriously.”</p>
<p>“I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now.”</p>
<p>“It must be recovered.”</p>
<p>“We have tried and failed.”</p>
<p>“Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought.”</p>
<p>“She will not sell.”</p>
<p>“Stolen, then.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“No sign of it?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely none.”</p>
<p>Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he.</p>
<p>“But a very serious one to me,” returned the King, reproachfully.</p>
<p>“Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?”</p>
<p>“To ruin me.”</p>
<p>“But how?”</p>
<p>“I am about to be married.”</p>
<p>“So I have heard.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“And Irene Adler?”</p>
<p>“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<a class="pagenum" name="Page_13" title="13"> </a> woman, there are
no lengths to which she would not go—none.”</p>
<p>“You are sure that she has not sent it yet?”</p>
<p>“I am sure.”</p>
<p>“And why?”</p>
<p>“Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the
betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.”</p>
<p>“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?”</p>
<p>“Certainly. You will find me at the Langham, under the name of the
Count Von Kramm.”</p>
<p>“Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress.”</p>
<p>“Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety.”</p>
<p>“Then, as to money?”</p>
<p>“You have <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">carte blanche</i>.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely?”</p>
<p>“I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to
have that photograph.”</p>
<p>“And for present expenses?”</p>
<p>The king took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid
it on the table.</p>
<p>“There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,” he
said.</p>
<p>Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it
to him.</p>
<p>“And mademoiselle’s address?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John’s Wood.”</p>
<p>Holmes took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the
photograph a cabinet?”</p>
<p>“It was.”</p>
<p>“Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have
some good news for you. And good-night, Watson,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_14" title="14"> </a>” 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.”</p>
<h3>II</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">At</span> 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked; and laughed<a class="pagenum" name="Page_15" title="15"> </a> again until
he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair.</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>“It’s quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed
my morning, or what I ended by doing.”</p>
<p>“I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and
perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.”</p>
<p>“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 <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">bijou</i>
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.</p>
<p>“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 I 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 neighborhood in whom I was
not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to
listen to.”</p>
<p>“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked.</p>
<p>“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<a class="pagenum" name="Page_16" title="16"> </a> 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 that they had to
tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to
think over my plan of campaign.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“I am following you closely,” I answered.</p>
<p>“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 mustached—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.</p>
<p>“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.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_17" title="17"> </a> ‘Drive like the devil,’ he shouted, ‘first to Gross &
Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to the church of St. Monica in the
Edgware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!’</p>
<p>“Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do