A Scandal in Bohemia

I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us
away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-
centered interests which rise up around the man who first finds
himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb
all my attention; while Holmes, who loathed every form of society
with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker
Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to
week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug and
the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever,
deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense
faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out
those clews, and clearing up those mysteries, which had been
abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I
heard some vague account of his doings; of his summons to Odessa in
the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular
tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the
mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully
for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of his
activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of
the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.

One night--it was on the 20th of March, 1888--I was returning from
a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice),
when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-
remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with my
wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was
seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he
was employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly
lighted, and even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass
twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the
room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest, and his
hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and
habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at
work again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams, and was
hot upon the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell, and was
shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own.

His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I
think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly
eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars,
and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he
stood before the fire, and looked me over in his singular
introspective fashion.

"Wedlock suits you," he remarked. "I think, Watson, that you have
put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you."

"Seven," I answered.

"Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more,
I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not
tell me that you intended to go into harness."

"Then how do you know?"

"I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting
yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and
careless servant girl?"

"My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much. You would certainly
have been burned had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true
that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful
mess; but as I have changed my clothes, I can't imagine how you
deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has
given her notice; but there again I fail to see how you work it
out."

He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long nervous hands together.

"It is simplicity itself," said he, "my eyes tell me that on the
inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the
leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have
been caused by some one who has very carelessly scraped round the
edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence,
you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather,
and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slicking specimen of
the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into
my rooms, smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of
silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the side of his
top hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be
dull indeed if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the
medical profession."

I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his
process of deduction. "When I hear you give your reasons," I
remarked, "the thing always appears to me so ridiculously simple
that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive
instance of your reasoning I am baffled, until you explain your
process. And yet, I believe that my eyes are as good as yours."

"Quite so," he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself
down into an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe. The
distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the
steps which lead up from the hall to this room."

"Frequently."

"How often?"

"Well, some hundreds of times."

"Then how many are there?"

"How many? I don't know."

"Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is
just my point. Now, I know there are seventeen steps, because I
have both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested
in these little problems, and since you are good enough to
chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be
interested in this." He threw over a sheet of thick pink-tinted
note paper which had been lying open upon the table. "It came by
the last post," said he. "Read it aloud."

The note was undated, and without either signature or address.

"There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock,"
it said, "a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of
the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal
houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be
trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be
exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters
received. Be in your chamber, then, at that hour, and do not take
it amiss if your visitor wears a mask."

"This is indeed a mystery," I remarked. "What do you imagine that
it means?"

"I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before
one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit
theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself--
what do you deduce from it?"

I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was
written.

"The man who wrote it was presumably well to do," I remarked,
endeavoring to imitate my companion's processes. "Such paper could
not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong
and stiff."

"Peculiar--that is the very word," said Holmes. "It is not an
English paper at all. Hold it up to the light."

I did so, and saw a large E with a small g, a P and a large G with
a small t woven into the texture of the paper.

"What do you make of that?" asked Holmes.

"The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather."

"Not all. The G with the small t stands for 'Gesellschaft,' which
is the German for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction like
our 'Co.' P, of course, stands for 'Papier.' Now for the Eg. Let
us glance at our 'Continental Gazetteer." He took down a heavy
brown volume from his shelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz--here we are,
Egria. It is in a German-speaking country--in Bohemia, not far
from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as being the scene of the death of
Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass factories and paper mills.'
Ha! ha! my boy, what do you make of that?" His eyes sparkled, and
he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette.

"The paper was made in Bohemia," I said.

"Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you
note the peculiar construction of the sentence--'This account of
you we have from all quarters received'? A Frenchman or Russian
could not have written that. It is the German who is so
uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover
what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper, and
prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if
I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts."

As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating
wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell.
Holmes whistled.

"A pair, by the sound," said he. "Yes," he continued, glancing out
of the window. "A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A
hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case,
Watson, if there is nothing else."

"I think I had better go, Holmes."

"Not a bit, doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my
Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity
to miss it."

"But your client--"

"Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he
comes. Sit down in that armchair, doctor, and give us your best
attention."

A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in
the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a
loud and authoritative tap.

"Come in!" said Holmes.

A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six
inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His
dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked
upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed
across the sleeves and front of his double-breasted coat, while the
deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with
flame-colored silk, and secured at the neck with a brooch which
consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway
up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown
fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was
suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat
in his hand, while he wore across the upper part of his face,
extending down past the cheek-bones, a black visard mask, which he
had apparently adjusted that very moment, for his hand was still
raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of the face he
appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, hanging
lip, and a long, straight chin, suggestive of resolution pushed to
the length of obstinacy.

"You had my note?" he asked, with a deep, harsh voice and a
strongly marked German accent. "I told you that I would call." He
looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to
address.

"Pray take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and colleague,
Doctor Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my
cases. Whom have I the honor to address?"

"You may address me as the Count von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I
understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honor and
discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme
importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you
alone."

I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back
into my chair. "It is both, or none," said he. "You may say
before this gentleman anything which you may say to me."

The count shrugged his broad shoulders. "Then I must begin," said
he, "by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the
end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present
it is not too much to say that it is of such weight that it may
have an influence upon European history."

"I promise," said Holmes.

"And I."

"You will excuse this mask," continued our strange visitor. "The
august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you,
and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just
called myself is not exactly my own."

"I was aware of it," said Holmes, dryly.

"The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has
to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal, and
seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To
speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein,
hereditary kings of Bohemia."

"I was also aware of that," murmured Holmes, settling himself down
in his armchair, and closing his eyes.

Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid,
lounging figure of the man who had been, no doubt, depicted to him
as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe.
Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his
gigantic client.

"If your majesty would condescend to state your case," he remarked,
"I should be better able to advise you."

The man sprung from his chair, and paced up and down the room in
uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he
tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground.

"You are right," he cried, "I am the king. Why should I attempt to
conceal it?"

"Why, indeed?" murmured Holmes. "Your majesty had not spoken
before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich
Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and
hereditary King of Bohemia."

"But you can understand," said our strange visitor, sitting down
once more and passing his hand over his high, white forehead, "you
can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in
my own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not
confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have
come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you."

"Then, pray consult," said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.

"The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy
visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known
adventuress Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you."

"Kindly look her up in my index, doctor," murmured Holmes, without
opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system for
docketing 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 traveled. 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-Meiningen, 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 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 notebook, 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,
thoughtfully. "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."

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 the 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 hostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses,
and I received in exchange two-pence, 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 neighborhood, 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 that 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 sprung out. He was a
remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and mustached--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 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 toward 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 thanking me on the one side and the lady on the
other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most
preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life, and
it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. It
seems that there had been some informality about their license;
that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without a
witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance saved the
bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in search of a
best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on
my watch chain in memory of the occasion."

"This is a very unexpected turn of affairs," said I; "and what
then?"

"Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if
the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very
prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door,
however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to
her own house. 'I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,'
she said, as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in
different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements."

"Which are?"

"Some cold beef and a glass of beer," he answered, ringing the
bell. "I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to
be busier still this evening. By the way, doctor, I shall want
your cooperation."

"I shall be delighted."

"You don't mind breaking the law?"

"Not in the least."

"Nor running a chance of arrest?"

"Not in a good cause."

"Oh, the cause is excellent!"

"Then I am your man."

"I was sure that I might rely on you."

"But what is it you wish?"

"When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to
you. Now," he said, as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that
our landlady had provided, "I must discuss it while I eat, for I
have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must
be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns
from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her."

"And what then?"

"You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to
occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must
not interfere, come what may. You understand?"

"I am to be neutral?"

"To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small
unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being
conveyed into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the
sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close
to that open window."

"Yes."

"You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you."

"Yes."

"And when I raise my hand--so--you will throw into the room what I
give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of
fire. You quite follow me?"

"Entirely."

"It is nothing very formidable," he said, taking a long, cigar-
shaped roll from his pocket. "It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-
rocket, fitted with a cap at either end, to make it self-lighting.
Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it
will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to
the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I
hope that I have made myself clear?"

"I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and,
at the signal, to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of
fire and to wait you at the corner of the street."

"Precisely."

"Then you may entirely rely on me."

"That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I
prepared for the new role I have to play."

He disappeared into his bedroom, and returned in a few minutes in
the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist
clergyman. His broad, black hat, his baggy trousers, his white
tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and
benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have
equaled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His
expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every
fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as
science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in
crime.

It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still
wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in
Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just
being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge,
waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such as
I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes's succinct description, but
the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On the
contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighborhood, it was
remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men
smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors grinder with his
wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse girl, and
several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with
cigars in their mouths.

"You see," remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the
house, "this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph
becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would
be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton as our client
is to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is--
where are we to find the photograph?"

"Where, indeed?"

"It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is
cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman's
dress. She knows that the king is capable of having her waylaid
and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We
may take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her."

"Where, then?"

"Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But
I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and
they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over
to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she
could not tell what indirect or political influence might be
brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she
had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where she can
lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house."

"But it has twice been burglarized."

"Pshaw! They did not know how to look."

"But how will you look?"

"I will not look."

"What then?"

"I will get her to show me."

"But she will refuse."

"She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is
her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter."

As he spoke, the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round
the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which
rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up one of the
loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in the
hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer
who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke
out which was increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with
one of the loungers, and by the scissors grinder, who was equally
hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the
lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the center of a little
knot of struggling men who struck savagely at each other with their
fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the
lady; but, just as he reached her, he gave a cry and dropped to the
ground, with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall
the guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and the loungers
in the other, while a number of better-dressed people who had
watched the scuffle without taking part in it crowded in to help
the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will
still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top,
with her superb figure outlined against the lights of the ball,
looking back into the street.

"Is the poor gentleman much hurt?" she asked.

"He is dead," cried several voices.

"No, no, there's life in him," shouted another. "But he'll be gone
before you can get him to the hospital."

"He's a brave fellow," said a woman. "They would have had the
lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a
gang, and a rough one, too. Ah! he's breathing now."

"He can't lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?"

"Surely. Bring him into the sitting room. There is a comfortable
sofa. This way, please." Slowly and solemnly he was borne into
Briony Lodge, and laid out in the principal room, while I still
observed the proceedings from my post by the window. The lamps had
been lighted, but the blinds had not been drawn, so that I could
see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know whether he was
seized with compunction at that moment for the part he was playing,
but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my
life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was
conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon
the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to
Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me.
I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my
ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but
preventing her from injuring another.

Holmes had sat upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who
is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window.
At the same instant I saw him raise his hand, and at the signal I
tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!" The word was
no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well
dressed and ill--gentlemen, hostlers, and servant maids--joined in
a general shriek of "Fire!" Thick clouds of smoke curled through
the room, and out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of
rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within
assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping through the
shouting crowd, I made my way to the corner of the street, and in
ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to
get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in
silence for some few minutes, until we had turned down one of the
quiet streets which led toward the Edgeware Road.

"You did it very nicely, doctor," he remarked. "Nothing could have
been better. It is all right."

"You have the photograph?"

"I know where it is."

"And how did you find out?"

"She showed me, as I told you that she would."

"I am still in the dark."

"I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The matter
was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the
street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening."

"I guessed as much."

"Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in
the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand
to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick."

"That also I could fathom."

"Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else
could she do? And into her sitting room, which was the very room
which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was
determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for
air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your
chance."

"How did that help you?"

"It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on
fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values
most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than
once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington
Substitution Scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth
Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby--an unmarried
one reaches for her jewel box. Now it was clear to me that our
lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than
what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm
of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to
shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph
is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-
pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as
she drew it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she
replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I
have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped
from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the
photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was
watching me narrowly, it seemed safer to wait. A little over-
precipitance may ruin all."

"And now?" I asked.

"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the king to-
morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be
shown into the sitting room to wait for the lady, but it is
probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the
photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his majesty to regain it
with his own hands."

"And when will you call?"

"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall
have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage
may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to
the king without delay."

We had reached Baker Street, and had stopped at the door. He was
searching his pockets for the key, when some one passing said:

"Good night, Mister Sherlock Holmes."

There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the
greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had
hurried by.

"I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the dimly
lighted street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have
been?"

III

I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our
toast and coffee in the morning, when the King of Bohemia rushed
into the room.

"You have really got it?" he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by
either shoulder, and looking eagerly into his face.

"Not yet."

"But you have hopes?"

"I have hopes."

"Then come. I am all impatience to be gone."

"We must have a cab."

"No, my brougham is waiting."

"Then that will simplify matters." We descended, and started off
once more for Briony Lodge.

"Irene Adler is married," remarked Holmes.

"Married! When?"

"Yesterday."

"But to whom?"

"To an English lawyer named Norton."

"But she could not love him."

"I am in hopes that she does."

"And why in hopes?"

"Because it would spare your majesty all fear of future annoyance.
If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your majesty. If
she does not love your majesty, there is no reason why she should
interfere with your majesty's plan."

"It is true. And yet-- Well, I wish she had been of my own
station. What a queen she would have made!" He relapsed into a
moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine
Avenue.

The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon
the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from
the brougham.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?" said she.

"I am Mr. Holmes," answered my companion, looking at her with a
questioning and rather startled gaze.

"Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She
left this morning, with her husband, by the 5:15 train from Charing
Cross, for the Continent."

"What!" Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and
surprise.

"Do you mean that she has left England?"

"Never to return."

"And the papers?" asked the king hoarsely. "All is lost!"

"We shall see." He pushed past the servant, and rushed into the
drawing-room, followed by the king and myself. The furniture was
scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves, and
open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before
her flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small
sliding shutter, and plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph
and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening
dress; the letter was superscribed to "Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be
left till called for." My friend tore it open, and we all three
read it together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night,
and ran in this way:

"MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,--You really did it very well. You
took me in completely. Until after the alarm of the fire, I had
not a suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself,
I began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had
been told that if the king employed an agent, it would certainly be
you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you
made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became
suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old
clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress
myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage
of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch
you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call them, and
came down just as you departed.

"Well, I followed you to the door, and so made sure that I was
really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good night, and started for
the Temple to see my husband.

"We both thought the best resource was flight when pursued by so
formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you
call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in
peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The king may
do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly
wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and preserve a weapon
which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in
the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess;
and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, very truly yours,

"IRENE NORTON, nee ADLER."

"What a woman--oh, what a woman!" cried the King of Bohemia, when
we had all three read this epistle. "Did I not tell you how quick
and resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen?
Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?"

"From what I have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a
very different level to your majesty," said Holmes coldly. "I am
sorry that I have not been able to bring your majesty's business to
a more successful conclusion."

"On the contrary, my dear sir," cried the king, "nothing could be
more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The
photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire."

"I am glad to hear your majesty say so."

"I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can
reward you. This ring--" He slipped an emerald snake ring from
his finger, and held it out upon the palm of his hand.

"Your majesty has something which I should value even more highly,"
said Holmes.

"You have but to name it."

"This photograph!"

The king stared at him in amazement.

"Irene's photograph!" he cried. "Certainly, if you wish it."

"I thank your majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the
matter. I have the honor to wish you a very good morning." He
bowed, and turning away without observing the hand which the king
had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his
chambers.

And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom
of Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were
beaten by a woman's wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness
of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he
speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is
always under the honorable title of THE woman.