all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to
name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish
information. In this case I found her biography sandwiched in between
that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff-commander who had written
a monograph upon the deep-sea fishes.
"Let me see!" said Holmes. "Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858.
Contralto--hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of
Warsaw--yes! Retired from operatic stage--ha! Living in London--quite
so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young
person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of
getting those letters back."
"Precisely so. But how--"
"Was there a secret marriage?"
"None."
"No legal papers or certificates?"
"None."
"Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should
produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to
prove their authenticity?"
"There is the writing."
"Pooh, pooh! Forgery."
"My private note-paper."
"Stolen."
"My own seal."
"Imitated."
"My photograph."
"Bought."
"We were both in the photograph."
"Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an
indiscretion."
"I was mad--insane."
"You have compromised yourself seriously."
"I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now."
"It must be recovered."
"We have tried and failed."
"Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought."
"She will not sell."
"Stolen, then."
"Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her
house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has
been waylaid. There has been no result."
"No sign of it?"
"Absolutely none."
Holmes laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem," said he.
"But a very serious one to me," returned the King reproachfully.
"Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?"
"To ruin me."
"But how?"
"I am about to be married."
"So I have heard."
"To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King
of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She
is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my
conduct would bring the matter to an end."
"And Irene Adler?"
"Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know
that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of
steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind
of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another
woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go--none."
"You are sure that she has not sent it yet?"
"I am sure."
"And why?"
"Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the
betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday."
"Oh, then we have three days yet," said Holmes with a yawn. "That is
very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look
into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London
for the present?"
"Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the
Count Von Kramm."
"Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress."
"Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety."
"Then, as to money?"
"You have carte blanche."
"Absolutely?"
"I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to
have that photograph."
"And for present expenses?"
The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and
laid it on the table.
"There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,"
he said.
Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed
it to him.
"And Mademoiselle's address?" he asked.
"Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood."
Holmes took a note of it. "One other question," said he. "Was the
photograph a cabinet?"
"It was."
"Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have
some good news for you. And good-night, Watson," he added, as the
wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be
good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock I should
like to chat this little matter over with you."
CHAPTER 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 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 ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in
exchange twopence, 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
daintiest 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
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 sprang 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 the 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 towards 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
