World of Education/World of Education.iso/world_s/sherfun.zip/SCANDAL2

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SHERLOCK HOLMES:  THE SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA

by Arthur Conan Doyle

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 horsy
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 expostalating 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 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 prepare 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 equalled. 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 neighbourhood, 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 burgled."

     "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 side-lights 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 centre of a little knot of flushed and 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 hall, 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 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 home 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 lit, 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 up 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, ostlers, 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 lead towards 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 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 half-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 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 someone 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 lit
street.

     "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been."