The Return of Sherlock Holmes
have settled the whole question. Is it not pitiful? And here I
find you, a man of sense, boggling about terms, when your
client’s future and honour are at stake. You surprise me, Mr.
Holmes.”
“What I say is true,” Holmes answered. “The money cannot be
found. Surely it is better for you to take the substantial sum
which I offer than to ruin this woman’s career, which can profit
you in no way?”
“There you make a mistake, Mr. Holmes. An exposure would profit
me indirectly to a considerable extent. I have eight or ten
similar cases maturing. If it was circulated among them that I
had made a severe example of the Lady Eva, I should find all of
them much more open to reason. You see my point?”
Holmes sprang from his chair.
“Get behind him, Watson! Don’t let him out! Now, sir, let us see
the contents of that notebook.”
Milverton had glided as quick as a rat to the side of the room
and stood with his back against the wall.
“Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes,” he said, turning the front of his coat
and exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from
the inside pocket. “I have been expecting you to do something
original. This has been done so often, and what good has ever
come from it? I assure you that I am armed to the teeth, and I am
perfectly prepared to use my weapons, knowing that the law will
support me. Besides, your supposition that I would bring the
letters here in a notebook is entirely mistaken. I would do
nothing so foolish. And now, gentlemen, I have one or two little
interviews this evening, and it is a long drive to Hampstead.” He
stepped forward, took up his coat, laid his hand on his revolver,
and turned to the door. I picked up a chair, but Holmes shook his
head, and I laid it down again. With a bow, a smile, and a
twinkle, Milverton was out of the room, and a few moments after
we heard the slam of the carriage door and the rattle of the
wheels as he drove away.
Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his
trouser pockets, his chin sunk upon his breast, his eyes fixed
upon the glowing embers. For half an hour he was silent and
still. Then, with the gesture of a man who has taken his
decision, he sprang to his feet and passed into his bedroom. A
little later a rakish young workman, with a goatee beard and a
swagger, lit his clay pipe at the lamp before descending into the
street. “I’ll be back some time, Watson,” said he, and vanished
into the night. I understood that he had opened his campaign
against Charles Augustus Milverton, but I little dreamed the
strange shape which that campaign was destined to take.
For some days Holmes came and went at all hours in this attire,
but beyond a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead, and
that it was not wasted, I knew nothing of what he was doing. At
last, however, on a wild, tempestuous evening, when the wind
screamed and rattled against the windows, he returned from his
last expedition, and having removed his disguise he sat before
the fire and laughed heartily in his silent inward fashion.
“You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?”
“No, indeed!”
“You’ll be interested to hear that I’m engaged.”
“My dear fellow! I congrat——”
“To Milverton’s housemaid.”
“Good heavens, Holmes!”
“I wanted information, Watson.”
“Surely you have gone too far?”
“It was a most necessary step. I am a plumber with a rising
business, Escott, by name. I have walked out with her each
evening, and I have talked with her. Good heavens, those talks!
However, I have got all I wanted. I know Milverton’s house as I
know the palm of my hand.”
“But the girl, Holmes?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“You can’t help it, my dear Watson. You must play your cards as
best you can when such a stake is on the table. However, I
rejoice to say that I have a hated rival, who will certainly cut
me out the instant that my back is turned. What a splendid night
it is!”
“You like this weather?”
“It suits my purpose. Watson, I mean to burgle Milverton’s house
to-night.”
I had a catching of the breath, and my skin went cold at the
words, which were slowly uttered in a tone of concentrated
resolution. As a flash of lightning in the night shows up in an
instant every detail of a wild landscape, so at one glance I
seemed to see every possible result of such an action—the
detection, the capture, the honoured career ending in irreparable
failure and disgrace, my friend himself lying at the mercy of the
odious Milverton.
“For heaven’s sake, Holmes, think what you are doing,” I cried.
“My dear fellow, I have given it every consideration. I am never
precipitate in my actions, nor would I adopt so energetic and,
indeed, so dangerous a course, if any other were possible. Let us
look at the matter clearly and fairly. I suppose that you will
admit that the action is morally justifiable, though technically
criminal. To burgle his house is no more than to forcibly take
his pocketbook—an action in which you were prepared to aid me.”
I turned it over in my mind.
“Yes,” I said, “it is morally justifiable so long as our object
is to take no articles save those which are used for an illegal
purpose.”
“Exactly. Since it is morally justifiable, I have only to
consider the question of personal risk. Surely a gentleman should
not lay much stress upon this, when a lady is in most desperate
need of his help?”
“You will be in such a false position.”
“Well, that is part of the risk. There is no other possible way
of regaining these letters. The unfortunate lady has not the
money, and there are none of her people in whom she could
confide. To-morrow is the last day of grace, and unless we can
get the letters to-night, this villain will be as good as his
word and will bring about her ruin. I must, therefore, abandon my
client to her fate or I must play this last card. Between
ourselves, Watson, it’s a sporting duel between this fellow
Milverton and me. He had, as you saw, the best of the first
exchanges, but my self-respect and my reputation are concerned to
fight it to a finish.”
“Well, I don’t like it, but I suppose it must be,” said I. “When
do we start?”
“You are not coming.”
“Then you are not going,” said I. “I give you my word of
honour—and I never broke it in my life—that I will take a cab
straight to the police-station and give you away, unless you let
me share this adventure with you.”
“You can’t help me.”
“How do you know that? You can’t tell what may happen. Anyway, my
resolution is taken. Other people besides you have self-respect,
and even reputations.”
Holmes had looked annoyed, but his brow cleared, and he clapped
me on the shoulder.
“Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared this same
room for some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by
sharing the same cell. You know, Watson, I don’t mind confessing
to you that I have always had an idea that I would have made a
highly efficient criminal. This is the chance of my lifetime in
that direction. See here!” He took a neat little leather case out
of a drawer, and opening it he exhibited a number of shining
instruments. “This is a first-class, up-to-date burgling kit,
with nickel-plated jemmy, diamond-tipped glass-cutter, adaptable
keys, and every modern improvement which the march of
civilization demands. Here, too, is my dark lantern. Everything
is in order. Have you a pair of silent shoes?”
“I have rubber-soled tennis shoes.”
“Excellent! And a mask?”
“I can make a couple out of black silk.”
“I can see that you have a strong, natural turn for this sort of
thing. Very good, do you make the masks. We shall have some cold
supper before we start. It is now nine-thirty. At eleven we shall
drive as far as Church Row. It is a quarter of an hour’s walk
from there to Appledore Towers. We shall be at work before
midnight. Milverton is a heavy sleeper, and retires punctually at
ten-thirty. With any luck we should be back here by two, with the
Lady Eva’s letters in my pocket.”
Holmes and I put on our dress-clothes, so that we might appear to
be two theatre-goers homeward bound. In Oxford Street we picked
up a hansom and drove to an address in Hampstead. Here we paid
off our cab, and with our great coats buttoned up, for it was
bitterly cold, and the wind seemed to blow through us, we walked
along the edge of the heath.
“It’s a business that needs delicate treatment,” said Holmes.
“These documents are contained in a safe in the fellow’s study,
and the study is the ante-room of his bed-chamber. On the other
hand, like all these stout, little men who do themselves well, he
is a plethoric sleeper. Agatha—that’s my _fiancée_—says it is a
joke in the servants’ hall that it’s impossible to wake the
master. He has a secretary who is devoted to his interests, and
never budges from the study all day. That’s why we are going at
night. Then he has a beast of a dog which roams the garden. I met
Agatha late the last two evenings, and she locks the brute up so
as to give me a clear run. This is the house, this big one in its
own grounds. Through the gate—now to the right among the laurels.
We might put on our masks here, I think. You see, there is not a
glimmer of light in any of the windows, and everything is working
splendidly.”
With our black silk face-coverings, which turned us into two of
the most truculent figures in London, we stole up to the silent,
gloomy house. A sort of tiled veranda extended along one side of
it, lined by several windows and two doors.
“That’s his bedroom,” Holmes whispered. “This door opens straight
into the study. It would suit us best, but it is bolted as well
as locked, and we should make too much noise getting in. Come
round here. There’s a greenhouse which opens into the
drawing-room.”
The place was locked, but Holmes removed a circle of glass and
turned the key from the inside. An instant afterwards he had
closed the door behind us, and we had become felons in the eyes
of the law. The thick, warm air of the conservatory and the rich,
choking fragrance of exotic plants took us by the throat. He
seized my hand in the darkness and led me swiftly past banks of
shrubs which brushed against our faces. Holmes had remarkable
powers, carefully cultivated, of seeing in the dark. Still
holding my hand in one of his, he opened a door, and I was
vaguely conscious that we had entered a large room in which a
cigar had been smoked not long before. He felt his way among the
furniture, opened another door, and closed it behind us. Putting
out my hand I felt several coats hanging from the wall, and I
understood that I was in a passage. We passed along it and Holmes