"Pray sit down, madam. You will hurt yourself there if you fall. I
will not speak until you sit down. Thank you."
"I give you five minutes, Mr. Holmes."
"One is enough, Lady Hilda. I know of your visit to Eduardo Lucas, of
your giving him this document, of your ingenious return to the room
last night, and of the manner in which you took the letter from the
hiding-place under the carpet."
She stared at him with an ashen face and gulped twice before she
could speak.
"You are mad, Mr. Holmes--you are mad!" she cried, at last.
He drew a small piece of cardboard from his pocket. It was the face
of a woman cut out of a portrait.
"I have carried this because I thought it might be useful," said he.
"The policeman has recognised it."
She gave a gasp and her head dropped back in the chair.
"Come, Lady Hilda. You have the letter. The matter may still be
adjusted. I have no desire to bring trouble to you. My duty ends when
I have returned the lost letter to your husband. Take my advice and
be frank with me; it is your only chance."
Her courage was admirable. Even now she would not own defeat.
"I tell you again, Mr. Holmes, that you are under some absurd
illusion."
Holmes rose from his chair.
"I am sorry for you, Lady Hilda. I have done my best for you; I can
see that it is all in vain."
He rang the bell. The butler entered.
"Is Mr. Trelawney Hope at home?"
"He will be home, sir, at a quarter to one."
Holmes glanced at his watch.
"Still a quarter of an hour," said he. "Very good, I shall wait."
The butler had hardly closed the door behind him when Lady Hilda was
down on her knees at Holmes's feet, her hands out-stretched, her
beautiful face upturned and wet with her tears.
"Oh, spare me, Mr. Holmes! Spare me!" she pleaded, in a frenzy of
supplication. "For Heaven's sake, don't tell him! I love him so! I
would not bring one shadow on his life, and this I know would break
his noble heart."
Holmes raised the lady. "I am thankful, madam, that you have come to
your senses even at this last moment! There is not an instant to
lose. Where is the letter?"
She darted across to a writing-desk, unlocked it, and drew out a long
blue envelope.
"Here it is, Mr. Holmes. Would to Heaven I had never seen it!"
"How can we return it?" Holmes muttered. "Quick, quick, we must think
of some way! Where is the despatch-box?"
"Still in his bedroom."
"What a stroke of luck! Quick, madam, bring it here!"
A moment later she had appeared with a red flat box in her hand.
"How did you open it before? You have a duplicate key? Yes, of course
you have. Open it!"
From out of her bosom Lady Hilda had drawn a small key. The box flew
open. It was stuffed with papers. Holmes thrust the blue envelope
deep down into the heart of them, between the leaves of some other
document. The box was shut, locked, and returned to the bedroom.
"Now we are ready for him," said Holmes; "we have still ten minutes.
I am going far to screen you, Lady Hilda. In return you will spend
the time in telling me frankly the real meaning of this extraordinary
affair."
"Mr. Holmes, I will tell you everything," cried the lady. "Oh, Mr.
Holmes, I would cut off my right hand before I gave him a moment of
sorrow! There is no woman in all London who loves her husband as I
do, and yet if he knew how I have acted--how I have been compelled to
act--he would never forgive me. For his own honour stands so high
that he could not forget or pardon a lapse in another. Help me, Mr.
Holmes! My happiness, his happiness, our very lives are at stake!"
"Quick, madam, the time grows short!"
"It was a letter of mine, Mr. Holmes, an indiscreet letter written
before my marriage--a foolish letter, a letter of an impulsive,
loving girl. I meant no harm, and yet he would have thought it
criminal. Had he read that letter his confidence would have been for
ever destroyed. It is years since I wrote it. I had thought that the
whole matter was forgotten. Then at last I heard from this man,
Lucas, that it had passed into his hands, and that he would lay it
before my husband. I implored his mercy. He said that he would return
my letter if I would bring him a certain document which he described
in my husband's despatch-box. He had some spy in the office who had
told him of its existence. He assured me that no harm could come to
my husband. Put yourself in my position, Mr. Holmes! What was I to
do?"
"Take your husband into your confidence."
"I could not, Mr. Holmes, I could not! On the one side seemed certain
ruin; on the other, terrible as it seemed to take my husband's paper,
still in a matter of politics I could not understand the
consequences, while in a matter of love and trust they were only too
clear to me. I did it, Mr. Holmes! I took an impression of his key;
this man Lucas furnished a duplicate. I opened his despatch-box, took
the paper, and conveyed it to Godolphin Street."
"What happened there, madam?"
"I tapped at the door as agreed. Lucas opened it. I followed him into
his room, leaving the hall door ajar behind me, for I feared to be
alone with the man. I remember that there was a woman outside as I
entered. Our business was soon done. He had my letter on his desk; I
handed him the document. He gave me the letter. At this instant there
was a sound at the door. There were steps in the passage. Lucas
quickly turned back the drugget, thrust the document into some
hiding-place there, and covered it over.
"What happened after that is like some fearful dream. I have a vision
of a dark, frantic face, of a woman's voice, which screamed in
French, 'My waiting is not in vain. At last, at last I have found you
with her!' There was a savage struggle. I saw him with a chair in his
hand, a knife gleamed in hers. I rushed from the horrible scene, ran
from the house, and only next morning in the paper did I learn the
dreadful result. That night I was happy, for I had my letter, and I
had not seen yet what the future would bring.
"It was the next morning that I realized that I had only exchanged
one trouble for another. My husband's anguish at the loss of his
paper went to my heart. I could hardly prevent myself from there and
then kneeling down at his feet and telling him what I had done. But
that again would mean a confession of the past. I came to you that
morning in order to understand the full enormity of my offence. From
the instant that I grasped it my whole mind was turned to the one
thought of getting back my husband's paper. It must still be where
Lucas had placed it, for it was concealed before this dreadful woman
entered the room. If it had not been for her coming, I should not
have known where his hiding-place was. How was I to get into the
room? For two days I watched the place, but the door was never left
open. Last night I made a last attempt. What I did and how I
succeeded, you have already learned. I brought the paper back with
me, and thought of destroying it since I could see no way of
returning it, without confessing my guilt to my husband. Heavens, I
hear his step upon the stair!"
The European Secretary burst excitedly into the room.
"Any news, Mr. Holmes, any news?" he cried.
"I have some hopes."
"Ah, thank heaven!" His face became radiant. "The Prime Minister is
lunching with me. May he share your hopes? He has nerves of steel,
and yet I know that he has hardly slept since this terrible event.
Jacobs, will you ask the Prime Minister to come up? As to you, dear,
I fear that this is a matter of politics. We will join you in a few
minutes in the dining-room."
The Prime Minister's manner was subdued, but I could see by the gleam
of his eyes and the twitchings of his bony hands that he shared the
excitement of his young colleague.
"I understand that you have something to report, Mr. Holmes?"
"Purely negative as yet," my friend answered. "I have inquired at
every point where it might be, and I am sure that there is no danger
to be apprehended."
"But that is not enough, Mr. Holmes. We cannot live for ever on such
a volcano. We must have something definite."
"I am in hopes of getting it. That is why I am here. The more I think
of the matter the more convinced I am that the letter has never left
this house."
"Mr. Holmes!"
"If it had it would certainly have been public by now."
"But why should anyone take it in order to keep it in his house?"
"I am not convinced that anyone did take it."
"Then how could it leave the despatch-box?"
"I am not convinced that it ever did leave the despatch-box."
"Mr. Holmes, this joking is very ill-timed. You have my assurance
that it left the box."
"Have you examined the box since Tuesday morning?"
"No; it was not necessary."
"You may conceivably have overlooked it."
"Impossible, I say."
"But I am not convinced of it; I have known such things to happen. I
presume there are other papers there. Well, it may have got mixed
with them."
"It was on the top."
"Someone may have shaken the box and displaced it."
"No, no; I had everything out."
"Surely it is easily decided, Hope," said the Premier. "Let us have
the despatch-box brought in."
The Secretary rang the bell.
"Jacobs, bring down my despatch-box. This is a farcical waste of
time, but still, if nothing else will satisfy you, it shall be done.
Thank you, Jacobs; put it here. I have always had the key on my
watch-chain. Here are the papers, you see. Letter from Lord Merrow,
report from Sir Charles Hardy, memorandum from Belgrade, note on the
Russo-German grain taxes, letter from Madrid, note from Lord
Flowers--good heavens! what is this? Lord Bellinger! Lord Bellinger!"
The Premier snatched the blue envelope from his hand.
"Yes, it is it--and the letter is intact. Hope, I congratulate you."
"Thank you! Thank you! What a weight from my heart. But this is
inconceivable--impossible. Mr. Holmes, you are a wizard, a sorcerer!
How did you know it was there?"
"Because I knew it was nowhere else."
"I cannot believe my eyes!" He ran wildly to the door. "Where is my
wife? I must tell her that all is well. Hilda! Hilda!" we heard his
voice on the stairs.
The Premier looked at Holmes with twinkling eyes.
"Come, sir," said he. "There is more in this than meets the eye. How
came the letter back in the box?"
Holmes turned away smiling from the keen scrutiny of those wonderful
eyes.
"We also have our diplomatic secrets," said he, and picking up his
hat he turned to the door.
THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES
Table of contents
Mr. Sherlock Holmes
The Curse of the Baskervilles
The Problem
Sir Henry Baskerville
Three Broken Threads
Baskerville Hall
The Stapletons of Merripit House
First Report of Dr. Watson
Second Report of Dr. Watson
Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson
The Man on the Tor
Death on the Moor
Fixing the Nets
The Hound of the Baskervilles
A Retrospection
CHAPTER I
Mr. Sherlock Holmes
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save
upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was
seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked
up the stick which our visitor had left behind him the night before.
It was a fine, thick piece of wood, bulbous-headed, of the sort which
is known as a "Penang lawyer." Just under the head was a broad silver
band nearly an inch across. "To James Mortimer, M.R.C.S., from his
friends of the C.C.H.," was engraved upon it, with the date "1884."
It was just such a stick as the old-fashioned family practitioner
used to carry--dignified, solid, and reassuring.
"Well, Watson, what do you make of it?"
Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign
of my occupation.
"How did you know what I was doing? I believe you have eyes in the
back of your head."
"I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front
of me," said he. "But, tell me, Watson, what do you make of our
visitor's stick? Since we have been so unfortunate as to miss him and
have no notion of his errand, this accidental souvenir becomes of
importance. Let me hear you reconstruct the man by an examination of
it."
