dipped into this bottle or that, drawing out a few drops of each with
his glass pipette, and finally brought a test-tube containing a
solution over to the table. In his right hand he held a slip of
litmus-paper.
"You come at a crisis, Watson," said he. "If this paper remains blue,
all is well. If it turns red, it means a man's life." He dipped it
into the test-tube and it flushed at once into a dull, dirty crimson.
"Hum! I thought as much!" he cried. "I will be at your service in an
instant, Watson. You will find tobacco in the Persian slipper." He
turned to his desk and scribbled off several telegrams, which were
handed over to the page-boy. Then he threw himself down into the
chair opposite, and drew up his knees until his fingers clasped round
his long, thin shins.
"A very commonplace little murder," said he. "You've got something
better, I fancy. You are the stormy petrel of crime, Watson. What is
it?"
I handed him the letter, which he read with the most concentrated
attention.
"It does not tell us very much, does it?" he remarked, as he handed
it back to me.
"Hardly anything."
"And yet the writing is of interest."
"But the writing is not his own."
"Precisely. It is a woman's."
"A man's surely," I cried.
"No, a woman's, and a woman of rare character. You see, at the
commencement of an investigation it is something to know that your
client is in close contact with some one who, for good or evil, has
an exceptional nature. My interest is already awakened in the case.
If you are ready we will start at once for Woking, and see this
diplomatist who is in such evil case, and the lady to whom he
dictates his letters."
We were fortunate enough to catch an early train at Waterloo, and in
a little under an hour we found ourselves among the fir-woods and the
heather of Woking. Briarbrae proved to be a large detached house
standing in extensive grounds within a few minutes' walk of the
station. On sending in our cards we were shown into an elegantly
appointed drawing-room, where we were joined in a few minutes by a
rather stout man who received us with much hospitality. His age may
have been nearer forty than thirty, but his cheeks were so ruddy and
his eyes so merry that he still conveyed the impression of a plump
and mischievous boy.
"I am so glad that you have come," said he, shaking our hands with
effusion. "Percy has been inquiring for you all morning. Ah, poor old
chap, he clings to any straw! His father and his mother asked me to
see you, for the mere mention of the subject is very painful to
them."
"We have had no details yet," observed Holmes. "I perceive that you
are not yourself a member of the family."
Our acquaintance looked surprised, and then, glancing down, he began
to laugh.
"Of course you saw the J H monogram on my locket," said he. "For a
moment I thought you had done something clever. Joseph Harrison is my
name, and as Percy is to marry my sister Annie I shall at least be a
relation by marriage. You will find my sister in his room, for she
has nursed him hand-and-foot this two months back. Perhaps we'd
better go in at once, for I know how impatient he is."
The chamber in which we were shown was on the same floor as the
drawing-room. It was furnished partly as a sitting and partly as a
bedroom, with flowers arranged daintily in every nook and corner. A
young man, very pale and worn, was lying upon a sofa near the open
window, through which came the rich scent of the garden and the balmy
summer air. A woman was sitting beside him, who rose as we entered.
"Shall I leave, Percy?" she asked.
He clutched her hand to detain her. "How are you, Watson?" said he,
cordially. "I should never have known you under that moustache, and I
dare say you would not be prepared to swear to me. This I presume is
your celebrated friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
I introduced him in a few words, and we both sat down. The stout
young man had left us, but his sister still remained with her hand in
that of the invalid. She was a striking-looking woman, a little short
and thick for symmetry, but with a beautiful olive complexion, large,
dark, Italian eyes, and a wealth of deep black hair. Her rich tints
made the white face of her companion the more worn and haggard by the
contrast.
"I won't waste your time," said he, raising himself upon the sofa.
"I'll plunge into the matter without further preamble. I was a happy
and successful man, Mr. Holmes, and on the eve of being married, when
a sudden and dreadful misfortune wrecked all my prospects in life.
"I was, as Watson may have told you, in the Foreign Office, and
through the influences of my uncle, Lord Holdhurst, I rose rapidly to
a responsible position. When my uncle became foreign minister in this
administration he gave me several missions of trust, and as I always
brought them to a successful conclusion, he came at last to have the
utmost confidence in my ability and tact.
"Nearly ten weeks ago--to be more accurate, on the twenty-third of
May--he called me into his private room, and, after complimenting me
on the good work which I had done, he informed me that he had a new
commission of trust for me to execute.
"'This,' said he, taking a gray roll of paper from his bureau, 'is
the original of that secret treaty between England and Italy of
which, I regret to say, some rumors have already got into the public
press. It is of enormous importance that nothing further should leak
out. The French or the Russian embassy would pay an immense sum to
learn the contents of these papers. They should not leave my bureau
were it not that it is absolutely necessary to have them copied. You
have a desk in your office?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'Then take the treaty and lock it up there. I shall give directions
that you may remain behind when the others go, so that you may copy
it at your leisure without fear of being overlooked. When you have
finished, relock both the original and the draft in the desk, and
hand them over to me personally to-morrow morning.'
"I took the papers and--"
"Excuse me an instant," said Holmes. "Were you alone during this
conversation?"
"Absolutely."
"In a large room?"
"Thirty feet each way."
"In the centre?"
"Yes, about it."
"And speaking low?"
"My uncle's voice is always remarkably low. I hardly spoke at all."
"Thank you," said Holmes, shutting his eyes; "pray go on."
"I did exactly what he indicated, and waited until the other clerks
had departed. One of them in my room, Charles Gorot, had some arrears
of work to make up, so I left him there and went out to dine. When I
returned he was gone. I was anxious to hurry my work, for I knew that
Joseph--the Mr. Harrison whom you saw just now--was in town, and that
he would travel down to Woking by the eleven-o'clock train, and I
wanted if possible to catch it.
"When I came to examine the treaty I saw at once that it was of such
importance that my uncle had been guilty of no exaggeration in what
he had said. Without going into details, I may say that it defined
the position of Great Britain towards the Triple Alliance, and
fore-shadowed the policy which this country would pursue in the event
of the French fleet gaining a complete ascendancy over that of Italy
in the Mediterranean. The questions treated in it were purely naval.
At the end were the signatures of the high dignitaries who had signed
it. I glanced my eyes over it, and then settled down to my task of
copying.
"It was a long document, written in the French language, and
containing twenty-six separate articles. I copied as quickly as I
could, but at nine o'clock I had only done nine articles, and it
seemed hopeless for me to attempt to catch my train. I was feeling
drowsy and stupid, partly from my dinner and also from the effects of
a long day's work. A cup of coffee would clear my brain. A
commissionaire remains all night in a little lodge at the foot of the
stairs, and is in the habit of making coffee at his spirit-lamp for
any of the officials who may be working over time. I rang the bell,
therefore, to summon him.
"To my surprise, it was a woman who answered the summons, a large,
coarse-faced, elderly woman, in an apron. She explained that she was
the commissionaire's wife, who did the charing, and I gave her the
order for the coffee.
"I wrote two more articles and then, feeling more drowsy than ever, I
rose and walked up and down the room to stretch my legs. My coffee
had not yet come, and I wondered what was the cause of the delay
could be. Opening the door, I started down the corridor to find out.
There was a straight passage, dimly lighted, which led from the room
in which I had been working, and was the only exit from it. It ended
in a curving staircase, with the commissionaire's lodge in the
passage at the bottom. Half way down this staircase is a small
landing, with another passage running into it at right angles. This
second one leads by means of a second small stair to a side door,
used by servants, and also as a short cut by clerks when coming from
Charles Street. Here is a rough chart of the place."
"Thank you. I think that I quite follow you," said Sherlock Holmes.
"It is of the utmost importance that you should notice this point. I
went down the stairs and into the hall, where I found the
commissionaire fast asleep in his box, with the kettle boiling
furiously upon the spirit-lamp. I took off the kettle and blew out
the lamp, for the water was spurting over the floor. Then I put out
my hand and was about to shake the man, who was still sleeping
soundly, when a bell over his head rang loudly, and he woke with a
start.
"'Mr. Phelps, sir!' said he, looking at me in bewilderment.
"'I came down to see if my coffee was ready.'
"'I was boiling the kettle when I fell asleep, sir.' He looked at me
and then up at the still quivering bell with an ever-growing
astonishment upon his face.
"'If you was here, sir, then who rang the bell?' he asked.
"'The bell!' I cried. 'What bell is it?'
"'It's the bell of the room you were working in.'
"A cold hand seemed to close round my heart. Some one, then, was in
that room where my precious treaty lay upon the table. I ran
frantically up the stair and along the passage. There was no one in
the corridors, Mr. Holmes. There was no one in the room. All was
exactly as I left it, save only that the papers which had been
committed to my care had been taken from the desk on which they lay.
The copy was there, and the original was gone."
Holmes sat up in his chair and rubbed his hands. I could see that the
problem was entirely to his heart. "Pray, what did you do then?" he
murmured.
"I recognized in an instant that the thief must have come up the
stairs from the side door. Of course I must have met him if he had
come the other way."
"You were satisfied that he could not have been concealed in the room
all the time, or in the corridor which you have just described as
dimly lighted?"
"It is absolutely impossible. A rat could not conceal himself either
in the room or the corridor. There is no cover at all."
"Thank you. Pray proceed."
"The commissionaire, seeing by my pale face that something was to be
feared, had followed me upstairs. Now we both rushed along the
corridor and down the steep steps which led to Charles Street. The
door at the bottom was closed, but unlocked. We flung it open and
rushed out. I can distinctly remember that as we did so there came
three chimes from a neighboring clock. It was quarter to ten."
"That is of enormous importance," said Holmes, making a note upon his
shirt-cuff.
"The night was very dark, and a thin, warm rain was falling. There
was no one in Charles Street, but a great traffic was going on, as
usual, in Whitehall, at the extremity. We rushed along the pavement,
bare-headed as we were, and at the far corner we found a policeman
standing.
"'A robbery has been committed,' I gasped. 'A document of immense
value has been stolen from the Foreign Office. Has any one passed
this way?'
"'I have been standing here for a quarter of an hour, sir,' said he;
'only one person has passed during that time--a woman, tall and
elderly, with a Paisley shawl.'
"'Ah, that is only my wife,' cried the commissionaire; 'has no one
else passed?'
"'No one.'
"'Then it must be the other way that the thief took,' cried the
