The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 2

Chapter 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.

It was close upon four before the door opened, and a

drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an

inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room.

Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use of

disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it

was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he

emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old.

Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in

front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes.

"Well, really!" he cried, and then he choked and laughed again

until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the

chair.

"What is it?"

"It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I

employed my morning, or what I ended by doing."

"I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the

habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler."

"Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you,

however. I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning

in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful

sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you

will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It

is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front

right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large

sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows

almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window

fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing

remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the

top of the coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely

from every point of view, but without noting anything else of

interest.

"I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that

there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the

garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and

received in exchange twopence, a glass of half and half, two fills

of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about

Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the

neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose

biographies I was compelled to listen to."

"And what of Irene Adler?" I asked.

"Oh, she has turned all the men's heads down in that part. She

is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the

Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts,

drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for

dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has

only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark,

handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often

twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the

advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a

dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I

had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down

near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of

campaign.

"This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the

matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the

relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits?

Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she

had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the

latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended

whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my

attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. It was a

delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that

I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little

difficulties, if you are to understand the situation."

"I am following you closely," I answered.

"I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab

drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a

remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached— evidently

the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry,

shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened

the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home.

"He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch

glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and

down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see

nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than

before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from

his pocket and looked at it earnestly, 'Drive like the devil,' he

shouted, 'first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street, and then

to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if

you do it in twenty minutes!'

"Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not

do well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau,

the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under

his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the

buckles. It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the hall door

and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she

was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for.

"'The Church of St. Monica, John,' she cried, 'and half a

sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.'

"This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing

whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her

landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice

at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could object. 'The

Church of St. Monica,' said I, 'and half a sovereign if you reach

it in twenty minutes.' It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of

course it was clear enough what was in the wind.

"My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but the

others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their

steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid

the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there

save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who

seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three standing

in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like

any other idler who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my

surprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey

Norton came running as hard as he could towards me.

"'Thank God,' he cried. 'You'll do. Come! Come!'

"'What then?' I asked.

"'Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won't be

legal.'

"I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I

was I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my

ear, and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally

assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to

Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there

was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady on the

other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most

preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life, and

it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. It

seems that there had been some informality about their license,

that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without a

witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance saved the

bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in search of a

best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on

my watch-chain in memory of the occasion."

"This is a very unexpected turn of affairs," said I; "and what

then?"

"Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if

the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very

prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door,

however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to

her own house. 'I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,'

she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in

different directions, and I went off to make my own

arrangements."

"Which are?"

"Some cold beef and a glass of beer," he answered, ringing the

bell. "I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be

busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your

co-operation."

"I shall be delighted."

"You don't mind breaking the law?"

"Not in the least."

"Nor running a chance of arrest?"

"Not in a good cause."

"Oh, the cause is excellent!"

"Then I am your man."

"I was sure that I might rely on you."

"But what is it you wish?"

"When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear

to you. Now," he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that

our landlady had provided, "I must discuss it while I eat, for I

have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be

on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from

her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her."

"And what then?"

"You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to

occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not

interfere, come what may. You understand?"

"I am to be neutral?"

"To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small

unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed

into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room

window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open

window."

"Yes."

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

"Yes."

"And when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what I

give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of

fire. You quite follow me?"

"Entirely."

"It is nothing very formidable," he said, taking a long cigar-

shaped roll from his pocket. "It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-

rocket, fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting.

Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it

will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to

the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope

that I have made myself clear?"

"I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you,

and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of

fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street."

"Precisely."

"Then you may entirely rely on me."

"That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I

prepare for the new role I have to play."

He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in

the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist

clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie,

his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent

curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It

was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his

manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he

assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute

reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.

It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it

still wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in

Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just

being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge,

waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such as

I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes' succinct description, but

the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On the

contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was

remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men

smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his

wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and

several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with

cigars in their mouths.

"You see," remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of

the house, "this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph

becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would

be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client

is to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is,

Where are we to find the photograph?"

"Where, indeed?"

"It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is

cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman's dress.

She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and

searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may

take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her."

"Where, then?"

"Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But

I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and

they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to

anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could

not tell what indirect or political influence might be brought to

bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved

to use it within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands

upon it. It must be in her own house."

"But it has twice been burgled."

"Pshaw! They did not know how to look."

"But how will you look?"

"I will not look."

"What then?"

"I will get her to show me."

"But she will refuse."

"She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is

her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter."

As he spoke the gleam of the side-lights of a carriage came

round the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which

rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the

loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in the

hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer,

who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke

out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with

one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally

hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the

lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little

knot of flushed and struggling men, who struck savagely at each

other with their fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to

protect the lady; but just as he reached her he gave a cry and

dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely down his face.

At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and

the loungers in the other, while a number of better-dressed people,

who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in

to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as

I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at

the top with her superb figure outlined against the lights of the

hall, looking back into the street.

"Is the poor gentleman much hurt?" she asked.

"He is dead," cried several voices.

"No, no, there's life in him!" shouted another. "But he'll be

gone before you can get him to hospital."

"He's a brave fellow," said a woman. "They would have had the

lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a g**g,

and a rough one, too. Ah, he's breathing now."

"He can't lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?"

"Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable

sofa. This way, please!"

Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out

in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from

my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had

not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the

couch. I do not know whether he was seized with compunction at that

moment for the part he was playing, but I know that I never felt

more heartily ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the

beautiful creature against whom I was conspiring, or the grace and

kindliness with which she waited upon the injured man. And yet it

would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the

part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took

the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are

not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring

another.

Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a

man who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the

window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the

signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!" The

word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of

spectators, well dressed and ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and

servant-maids—joined in a general shriek of "Fire!" Thick clouds of

smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. I caught

a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of

Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm.

Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of

the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm

in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked

swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned

down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware

Road.

"You did it very nicely, Doctor," he remarked. "Nothing could

have been better. It is all right."

"You have the photograph?"

"I know where it is."

"And how did you find out?"

"She showed me, as I told you she would."

"I am still in the dark."

"I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The

matter was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in

the street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the

evening."

"I guessed as much."

"Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in

the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand

to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old

trick."

"That also I could fathom."

"Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else

could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room

which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was

determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for

air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your

chance."

"How did that help you?"

"It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on

fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values

most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than

once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington

substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth

Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried

one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady

of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what

we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire

was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake

nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a

recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She

was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she

half-drew it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she

replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I

have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped

from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the

photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was

watching me narrowly it seemed safer to wait. A little

over-precipitance may ruin all."

"And now?" I asked.

"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King

to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be

shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is

probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the

photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it

with his own hands."

"And when will you call?"

"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall

have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage

may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to

the King without delay."

We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was

searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said:

"Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes."

There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the

greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had

hurried by.

"I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the

dimly lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have

been."