I had intended “The Adventure of the Abbey Grange” to be the last
of those exploits of my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, which I
should ever communicate to the public. This resolution of mine
was not due to any lack of material, since I have notes of many
hundreds of cases to which I have never alluded, nor was it
caused by any waning interest on the part of my readers in the
singular personality and unique methods of this remarkable man.
The real reason lay in the reluctance which Mr. Holmes has shown
to the continued publication of his experiences. So long as he
was in actual professional practice the records of his successes
were of some practical value to him, but since he has definitely
retired from London and betaken himself to study and bee-farming
on the Sussex Downs, notoriety has become hateful to him, and he
has peremptorily requested that his wishes in this matter should
be strictly observed. It was only upon my representing to him
that I had given a promise that “The Adventure of the Second
Stain” should be published when the times were ripe, and pointing
out to him that it is only appropriate that this long series of
episodes should culminate in the most important international
case which he has ever been called upon to handle, that I at last
succeeded in obtaining his consent that a carefully guarded
account of the incident should at last be laid before the public.
If in telling the story I seem to be somewhat vague in certain
details, the public will readily understand that there is an
excellent reason for my reticence.
It was, then, in a year, and even in a decade, that shall be
nameless, that upon one Tuesday morning in autumn we found two
visitors of European fame within the walls of our humble room in
Baker Street. The one, austere, high-nosed, eagle-eyed, and
dominant, was none other than the illustrious Lord Bellinger,
twice Premier of Britain. The other, dark, clear-cut, and
elegant, hardly yet of middle age, and endowed with every beauty
of body and of mind, was the Right Honourable Trelawney Hope,
Secretary for European Affairs, and the most rising statesman in
the country. They sat side by side upon our paper-littered
settee, and it was easy to see from their worn and anxious faces
that it was business of the most pressing importance which had
brought them. The Premier’s thin, blue-veined hands were clasped
tightly over the ivory head of his umbrella, and his gaunt,
ascetic face looked gloomily from Holmes to me. The European
Secretary pulled nervously at his moustache and fidgeted with the
seals of his watch-chain.
“When I discovered my loss, Mr. Holmes, which was at eight
o’clock this morning, I at once informed the Prime Minister. It
was at his suggestion that we have both come to you.”
“Have you informed the police?”
“No, sir,” said the Prime Minister, with the quick, decisive
manner for which he was famous. “We have not done so, nor is it
possible that we should do so. To inform the police must, in the
long run, mean to inform the public. This is what we particularly
desire to avoid.”
“And why, sir?”
“Because the document in question is of such immense importance
that its publication might very easily—I might almost say
probably—lead to European complications of the utmost moment. It
is not too much to say that peace or war may hang upon the issue.
Unless its recovery can be attended with the utmost secrecy, then
it may as well not be recovered at all, for all that is aimed at
by those who have taken it is that its contents should be
generally known.”
“I understand. Now, Mr. Trelawney Hope, I should be much obliged
if you would tell me exactly the circumstances under which this
document disappeared.”
“That can be done in a very few words, Mr. Holmes. The letter—for
it was a letter from a foreign potentate—was received six days
ago. It was of such importance that I have never left it in my
safe, but have taken it across each evening to my house in
Whitehall Terrace, and kept it in my bedroom in a locked
despatch-box. It was there last night. Of that I am certain. I
actually opened the box while I was dressing for dinner and saw
the document inside. This morning it was gone. The despatch-box
had stood beside the glass upon my dressing-table all night. I am
a light sleeper, and so is my wife. We are both prepared to swear
that no one could have entered the room during the night. And yet
I repeat that the paper is gone.”
“What time did you dine?”
“Half-past seven.”
“How long was it before you went to bed?”
“My wife had gone to the theatre. I waited up for her. It was
half-past eleven before we went to our room.”
“Then for four hours the despatch-box had lain unguarded?”
“No one is ever permitted to enter that room save the house-maid
in the morning, and my valet, or my wife’s maid, during the rest
of the day. They are both trusty servants who have been with us
for some time. Besides, neither of them could possibly have known
that there was anything more valuable than the ordinary
departmental papers in my despatch-box.”
“Who did know of the existence of that letter?”
“No one in the house.”
“Surely your wife knew?”
“No, sir. I had said nothing to my wife until I missed the paper
this morning.”
The Premier nodded approvingly.
“I have long known, sir, how high is your sense of public duty,”
said he. “I am convinced that in the case of a secret of this
importance it would rise superior to the most intimate domestic
ties.”
The European Secretary bowed.
“You do me no more than justice, sir. Until this morning I have
never breathed one word to my wife upon this matter.”
“Could she have guessed?”
“No, Mr. Holmes, she could not have guessed—nor could anyone have
guessed.”
“Have you lost any documents before?”
“No, sir.”
“Who is there in England who did know of the existence of this
letter?”
“Each member of the Cabinet was informed of it yesterday, but the
pledge of secrecy which attends every Cabinet meeting was
increased by the solemn warning which was given by the Prime
Minister. Good heavens, to think that within a few hours I should
myself have lost it!” His handsome face was distorted with a
spasm of despair, and his hands tore at his hair. For a moment we
caught a glimpse of the natural man, impulsive, ardent, keenly
sensitive. The next the aristocratic mask was replaced, and the
gentle voice had returned. “Besides the members of the Cabinet
there are two, or possibly three, departmental officials who know
of the letter. No one else in England, Mr. Holmes, I assure you.”
“But abroad?”
“I believe that no one abroad has seen it save the man who wrote
it. I am well convinced that his Ministers—that the usual
official channels have not been employed.”
Holmes considered for some little time.
“Now, sir, I must ask you more particularly what this document
is, and why its disappearance should have such momentous
consequences?”
The two statesmen exchanged a quick glance and the Premier’s
shaggy eyebrows gathered in a frown.
“Mr. Holmes, the envelope is a long, thin one of pale blue
colour. There is a seal of red wax stamped with a crouching lion.
It is addressed in large, bold handwriting to——”
“I fear, sir,” said Holmes, “that, interesting and indeed
essential as these details are, my inquiries must go more to the
root of things. What _was_ the letter?”
“That is a State secret of the utmost importance, and I fear that
I cannot tell you, nor do I see that it is necessary. If by the
aid of the powers which you are said to possess you can find such
an envelope as I describe with its enclosure, you will have
deserved well of your country, and earned any reward which it
lies in our power to bestow.”
Sherlock Holmes rose with a smile.
“You are two of the most busy men in the country,” said he, “and
in my own small way I have also a good many calls upon me. I
regret exceedingly that I cannot help you in this matter, and any
continuation of this interview would be a waste of time.”
The Premier sprang to his feet with that quick, fierce gleam of
his deep-set eyes before which a Cabinet has cowered. “I am not
accustomed, sir,” he began, but mastered his anger and resumed
his seat. For a minute or more we all sat in silence. Then the
old statesman shrugged his shoulders.
“We must accept your terms, Mr. Holmes. No doubt you are right,
and it is unreasonable for us to expect you to act unless we give
you our entire confidence.”
“I agree with you,” said the younger statesman.
“Then I will tell you, relying entirely upon your honour and that
of your colleague, Dr. Watson. I may appeal to your patriotism
also, for I could not imagine a greater misfortune for the
country than that this affair should come out.”
“You may safely trust us.”
“The letter, then, is from a certain foreign potentate who has
been ruffled by some recent Colonial developments of this
country. It has been written hurriedly and upon his own
responsibility entirely. Inquiries have shown that his Ministers
know nothing of the matter. At the same time it is couched in so
unfortunate a manner, and certain phrases in it are of so
provocative a character, that its publication would undoubtedly
lead to a most dangerous state of feeling in this country. There
would be such a ferment, sir, that I do not hesitate to say that
within a week of the publication of that letter this country
would be involved in a great war.”
Holmes wrote a name upon a slip of paper and handed it to the
Premier.
“Exactly. It was he. And it is this letter—this letter which may
well mean the expenditure of a thousand millions and the lives of
a hundred thousand men—which has become lost in this
unaccountable fashion.”
“Have you informed the sender?”
“Yes, sir, a cipher telegram has been despatched.”
“Perhaps he desires the publication of the letter.”
“No, sir, we have strong reason to believe that he already
understands that he has acted in an indiscreet and hot-headed
manner. It would be a greater blow to him and to his country than
to us if this letter were to come out.”
“If this is so, whose interest is it that the letter should come
out? Why should anyone desire to steal it or to publish it?”
“There, Mr. Holmes, you take me into regions of high
international politics. But if you consider the European
situation you will have no difficulty in perceiving the motive.
The whole of Europe is an armed camp. There is a double league
which makes a fair balance of military power. Great Britain holds
the scales. If Britain were driven into war with one confederacy,
it would assure the supremacy of the other confederacy, whether
they joined in the war or not. Do you follow?”
“Very clearly. It is then the interest of the enemies of this
potentate to secure and publish this letter, so as to make a
breach between his country and ours?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And to whom would this document be sent if it fell into the
hands of an enemy?”
“To any of the great Chancelleries of Europe. It is probably
speeding on its way thither at the present instant as fast as
steam can take it.”
Mr. Trelawney Hope dropped his head on his chest and groaned
aloud. The Premier placed his hand kindly upon his shoulder.
“It is your misfortune, my dear fellow. No one can blame you.
There is no precaution which you have neglected. Now, Mr. Holmes,
you are in full possession of the facts. What course do you
recommend?”
Holmes shook his head mournfully.
“You think, sir, that unless this document is recovered there
will be war?”
“I think it is very probable.”
“Then, sir, prepare for war.”
“That is a hard saying, Mr. Holmes.”
“Consider the facts, sir. It is inconceivable that it was taken
after eleven-thirty at night, since I understand that Mr. Hope
and his wife were both in the room from that hour until the loss
was found out. It was taken, then, yesterday evening between
seven-thirty and eleven-thirty, probably near the earlier hour,
since whoever took it evidently knew that it was there and would
naturally secure it as early as possible. Now, sir, if a document
of this importance were taken at that hour, where can it be now?
No one has any reason to retain it. It has been passed rapidly on
to those who need it. What chance have we now to overtake or even
to trace it? It is beyond our reach.”
The Prime Minister rose from the settee.
“What you say is perfectly logical, Mr. Holmes. I feel that the
matter is indeed out of our hands.”
“Let us presume, for argument’s sake, that the document was taken
by the maid or by the valet——”
“They are both old and tried servants.”
“I understand you to say that your room is on the second floor,
that there is no entrance from without, and that from within no
one could go up unobserved. It must, then, be somebody in the
house who has taken it. To whom would the thief take it? To one
of several international spies and secret agents, whose names are
tolerably familiar to me. There are three who may be said to be
the heads of their profession. I will begin my research by going
round and finding if each of them is at his post. If one is
missing—especially if he has disappeared since last night—we will
have some indication as to where the document has gone.”
“Why should he be missing?” asked the European Secretary. “He
would take the letter to an Embassy in London, as likely as not.”
“I fancy not. These agents work independently, and their
relations with the Embassies are often strained.”
The Prime Minister nodded his acquiescence.
“I believe you are right, Mr. Holmes. He would take so valuable a
prize to headquarters with his own hands. I think that your
course of action is an excellent one. Meanwhile, Hope, we cannot
neglect all our other duties on account of this one misfortune.
Should there be any fresh developments during the day we shall
communicate with you, and you will no doubt let us know the
results of your own inquiries.”
The two statesmen bowed and walked gravely from the room.
When our illustrious visitors had departed Holmes lit his pipe in
silence and sat for some time lost in the deepest thought. I had
opened the morning paper and was immersed in a sensational crime
which had occurred in London the night before, when my friend
gave an exclamation, sprang to his feet, and laid his pipe down
upon the mantelpiece.
“Yes,” said he, “there is no better way of approaching it. The
situation is desperate, but not hopeless. Even now, if we could
be sure which of them has taken it, it is just possible that it
has not yet passed out of his hands. After all, it is a question
of money with these fellows, and I have the British treasury
behind me. If it’s on the market I’ll buy it—if it means another
penny on the income-tax. It is conceivable that the fellow might
hold it back to see what bids come from this side before he tries
his luck on the other. There are only those three capable of
playing so bold a game—there are Oberstein, La Rothiere, and
Eduardo Lucas. I will see each of them.”