"What! Give it up? Give up a hundred thousand quid?"
"It's one or the other."
Merton scratched his short-cropped pate.
"He's alone in there. Let's do him in. If his light were out we
should have nothing to fear."
The Count shook his head.
"He is armed and ready. If we shot him we could hardly get away in a
place like this. Besides, it's likely enough that the police know
whatever evidence he has got. Hallo! What was that?"
There was a vague sound which seemed to come from the window. Both
men sprang round, but all was quiet. Save for the one strange figure
seated in the chair, the room was certainly empty.
"Something in the street," said Merton. "Now look here, guv'nor,
you've got the brains. Surely you can think a way out of it. If
slugging is no use then it's up to you."
"I've fooled better men than he," the Count answered. "The stone is
here in my secret pocket. I take no chances leaving it about. It can
be out of England to-night and cut into four pieces in Amsterdam
before Sunday. He knows nothing of Van Seddar."
"I thought Van Seddar was going next week."
"He was. But now he must get off by the next boat. One or other of us
must slip round with the stone to Lime Street and tell him."
"But the false bottom ain't ready."
"Well, he must take it as it is and chance it. There's not a moment
to lose." Again, with the sense of danger which becomes an instinct
with the sportsman, he paused and looked hard at the window. Yes, it
was surely from the street that the faint sound had come.
"As to Holmes," he continued, "we can fool him easily enough. You
see, the damned fool won't arrest us if he can get the stone. Well,
we'll promise him the stone. We'll put him on the wrong track about
it, and before he finds that it is the wrong track it will be in
Holland and we out of the country."
"That sounds good to me!" cried Sam Merton with a grin.
"You go on and tell the Dutchman to get a move on him. I'll see this
sucker and fill him up with a bogus confession. I'll tell him that
the stone is in Liverpool. Confound that whining music; it gets on my
nerves! By the time he finds it isn't in Liverpool it will be in
quarters and we on the blue water. Come back here, out of a line with
that keyhole. Here is the stone."
"I wonder you dare carry it."
"Where could I have it safer? If we could take it out of Whitehall
someone else could surely take it out of my lodgings."
"Let's have a look at it."
Count Sylvius cast a somewhat unflattering glance at his associate
and disregarded the unwashed hand which was extended towards him.
"What--d'ye think I'm going to snatch it off you? See here, mister,
I'm getting a bit tired of your ways."
"Well, well, no offence, Sam. We can't afford to quarrel. Come over
to the window if you want to see the beauty properly. Now hold it to
the light! Here!"
"Thank you!"
With a single spring Holmes had leaped from the dummy's chair and had
grasped the precious jewel. He held it now in one hand, while his
other pointed a revolver at the Count's head. The two villains
staggered back in utter amazement. Before they had recovered Holmes
had pressed the electric bell.
"No violence, gentlemen--no violence, I beg of you! Consider the
furniture! It must be very clear to you that your position is an
impossible one. The police are waiting below."
The Count's bewilderment overmastered his rage and fear.
"But how the deuce--?" he gasped.
"Your surprise is very natural. You are not aware that a second door
from my bedroom leads behind that curtain. I fancied that you must
have heard me when I displaced the figure, but luck was on my side.
It gave me a chance of listening to your racy conversation which
would have been painfully constrained had you been aware of my
presence."
The Count gave a gesture of resignation.
"We give you best, Holmes. I believe you are the devil himself."
"Not far from him, at any rate," Holmes answered with a polite smile.
Sam Merton's slow intellect had only gradually appreciated the
situation. Now, as the sound of heavy steps came from the stairs
outside, he broke silence at last.
"A fair cop!" said he. "But, I say, what about that bloomin' fiddle!
I hear it yet."
"Tut, tut!" Holmes answered. "You are perfectly right. Let it play!
These modern gramophones are a remarkable invention."
There was an inrush of police, the handcuffs clicked and the
criminals were led to the waiting cab. Watson lingered with Holmes,
congratulating him upon this fresh leaf added to his laurels. Once
more their conversation was interrupted by the imperturbable Billy
with his card-tray.
"Lord Cantlemere, sir."
"Show him up, Billy. This is the eminent peer who represents the very
highest interests," said Holmes. "He is an excellent and loyal
person, but rather of the old regime. Shall we make him unbend? Dare
we venture upon a slight liberty? He knows, we may conjecture,
nothing of what has occurred."
The door opened to admit a thin, austere figure with a hatchet face
and drooping mid-Victorian whiskers of a glossy blackness which
hardly corresponded with the rounded shoulders and feeble gait.
Holmes advanced affably, and shook an unresponsive hand.
"How do you do, Lord Cantlemere? It is chilly for the time of year,
but rather warm indoors. May I take your overcoat?"
"No, I thank you; I will not take it off."
Holmes laid his hand insistently upon the sleeve.
"Pray allow me! My friend Dr. Watson would assure you that these
changes of temperature are most insidious."
His Lordship shook himself free with some impatience.
"I am quite comfortable, sir. I have no need to stay. I have simply
looked in to know how your self-appointed task was progressing."
"It is difficult--very difficult."
"I feared that you would find it so."
There was a distinct sneer in the old courtier's words and manner.
"Every man finds his limitations, Mr. Holmes, but at least it cures
us of the weakness of self-satisfaction."
"Yes, sir, I have been much perplexed."
"No doubt."
"Especially upon one point. Possibly you could help me upon it?"
"You apply for my advice rather late in the day. I thought that you
had your own all-sufficient methods. Still, I am ready to help you."
"You see, Lord Cantlemere, we can no doubt frame a case against the
actual thieves."
"When you have caught them."
"Exactly. But the question is--how shall we proceed against the
receiver?"
"Is this not rather premature?"
"It is as well to have our plans ready. Now, what would you regard as
final evidence against the receiver?"
"The actual possession of the stone."
"You would arrest him upon that?"
"Most undoubtedly."
Holmes seldom laughed, but he got as near it as his old friend Watson
could remember.
"In that case, my dear sir, I shall be under the painful necessity of
advising your arrest."
Lord Cantlemere was very angry. Some of the ancient fires flickered
up into his sallow cheeks.
"You take a great liberty, Mr. Holmes. In fifty years of official
life I cannot recall such a case. I am a busy man, sir, engaged upon
important affairs, and I have no time or taste for foolish jokes. I
may tell you frankly, sir, that I have never been a believer in your
powers, and that I have always been of the opinion that the matter
was far safer in the hands of the regular police force. Your conduct
confirms all my conclusions. I have the honour, sir, to wish you
good-evening."
Holmes had swiftly changed his position and was between the peer and
the door.
"One moment, sir," said he. "To actually go off with the Mazarin
stone would be a more serious offence than to be found in temporary
possession of it."
"Sir, this is intolerable! Let me pass."
"Put your hand in the right-hand pocket of your overcoat."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Come--come, do what I ask."
An instant later the amazed peer was standing, blinking and
stammering, with the great yellow stone on his shaking palm.
"What! What! How is this, Mr. Holmes?"
"Too bad, Lord Cantlemere, too bad!" cried Holmes. "My old friend
here will tell you that I have an impish habit of practical joking.
Also that I can never resist a dramatic situation. I took the
liberty--the very great liberty, I admit--of putting the stone into
your pocket at the beginning of our interview."
The old peer stared from the stone to the smiling face before him.
"Sir, I am bewildered. But--yes--it is indeed the Mazarin stone. We
are greatly your debtors, Mr. Holmes. Your sense of humour may, as
you admit, be somewhat perverted, and its exhibition remarkably
untimely, but at least I withdraw any reflection I have made upon
your amazing professional powers. But how--"
"The case is but half finished; the details can wait. No doubt, Lord
Cantlemere, your pleasure in telling of this successful result in the
exalted circle to which you return will be some small atonement for
my practical joke. Billy, you will show his Lordship out, and tell
Mrs. Hudson that I should be glad if she would send up dinner for two
as soon as possible."
THE ADVENTURE OF THE THREE GABLES
I don't think that any of my adventures with Mr. Sherlock Holmes
opened quite so abruptly, or so dramatically, as that which I
associate with The Three Gables. I had not seen Holmes for some days
and had no idea of the new channel into which his activities had been
directed. He was in a chatty mood that morning, however, and had just
settled me into the well-worn low armchair on one side of the fire,
while he had curled down with his pipe in his mouth upon the opposite
chair, when our visitor arrived. If I had said that a mad bull had
arrived it would give a clearer impression of what occurred.
The door had flown open and a huge negro had burst into the room. He
would have been a comic figure if he had not been terrific, for he
was dressed in a very loud gray check suit with a flowing
salmon-coloured tie. His broad face and flattened nose were thrust
forward, as his sullen dark eyes, with a smouldering gleam of malice
in them, turned from one of us to the other.
"Which of you gen'l'men is Masser Holmes?" he asked.
Holmes raised his pipe with a languid smile.
"Oh! it's you, is it?" said our visitor, coming with an unpleasant,
stealthy step round the angle of the table. "See here, Masser Holmes,
you keep your hands out of other folks' business. Leave folks to
manage their own affairs. Got that, Masser Holmes?"
"Keep on talking," said Holmes. "It's fine."
"Oh! it's fine, is it?" growled the savage. "It won't be so damn fine
if I have to trim you up a bit. I've handled your kind before now,
and they didn't look fine when I was through with them. Look at that,
Masser Holmes!"
He swung a huge knotted lump of a fist under my friend's nose. Holmes
examined it closely with an air of great interest. "Were you born
so?" he asked. "Or did it come by degrees?"
It may have been the icy coolness of my friend, or it may have been
the slight clatter which I made as I picked up the poker. In any
case, our visitor's manner became less flamboyant.
"Well, I've given you fair warnin'," said he. "I've a friend that's
interested out Harrow way--you know what I'm meaning--and he don't
intend to have no buttin' in by you. Got that? You ain't the law, and
I ain't the law either, and if you come in I'll be on hand also.
Don't you forget it."
"I've wanted to meet you for some time," said Holmes. "I won't ask
you to sit down, for I don't like the smell of you, but aren't you
Steve Dixie, the bruiser?"
"That's my name, Masser Holmes, and you'll get put through it for
sure if you give me any lip."
"It is certainly the last thing you need," said Holmes, staring at
our visitor's hideous mouth. "But it was the killing of young Perkins
outside the Holborn Bar-- What! you're not going?"
The negro had sprung back, and his face was leaden. "I won't listen
to no such talk," said he. "What have I to do with this 'ere Perkins,
Masser Holmes? I was trainin' at the Bull Ring in Birmingham when
