II

At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet

returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly

after eight o'clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however,

with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be. I was

already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was surrounded

by none of the grim and strange features which were associated with the

two crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case

and the exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own.

Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had

on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and

his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study

his system of work, and to follow the quick subtle methods by which he

disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his

invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased

to enter into my head.

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

groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and

disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my

friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three

times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished

into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and

respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched

out his legs in front of the fire, and laughed heartily for some

minutes.

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

was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair.

"What is it?"

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

morning, or what I ended by doing."

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

perhaps, the house, of Miss Irene Adler."

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

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

character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and

freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all that

there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a

garden at the back, but built out in the 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 hostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and I received in

exchange two-pence, 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

daintest 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 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.

"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 sprung 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 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 toward 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 prepared

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's 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 burglarized."

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

"But how will you look?"

"I will not look."

"What then?"

"I will get her to show me."

"But she will refuse."

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

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

As he spoke, the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the

curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to

the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up one of the loafing men at the

corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper,

but was elbowed away by another loafer who had rushed up with the same

intention. A fierce quarrel broke out which was increased by the two

guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors

grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and

in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the

centre of a little knot of 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 the hospital."

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

purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a gang, and a

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

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

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

This way, please." Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge,

and laid out in the principal room, while I still observed the

proceedings from my post by the window. The lamps had been lighted, 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 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, hostlers, 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 led toward 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 that 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 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

lighted street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been?"