A Scandal in Bohemia by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle from the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the woman. I have seldom heard
him mention her under any other name. In his eyes, she eclipses and
predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion
akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly were
abhorrent to his cold, precise, but admirably balanced mind. He was,
I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has
seen. But as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position.
He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a
sneer. They were admirable things for the observer, excellent for drawing the veil
from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner, to admit such
intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor
which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Gret in a sensitive
instrument or a crack in one of his own high power lenses would not be
more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet
there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene
Adler, abdubious and questionable memory. I had seen little of Holmes lately.
My marriage had drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness and
the home centered interest which rise up round 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 clues 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 trepof murder, of his clearing up, of the singular tragedy of
the Atkinson brothers at Trincommie, 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 share with all the readers of
the Daily Press, I knew little of my former friend and companion. One
night, it was on the twentieth of March eighteen eighty eight. 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 and Scarlet, I was seized with
a keen desired see Holmes again and to know how he was employing his extraordinary
powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and even as I looked up,
I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the
blind. He was facing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk
upon his breast 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 arm chair, threw across his case of
cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a misogyny in the corner. Then
he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion.
Wedlock suit 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 observed 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 few centuries ago. It is
true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful
mass, 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 failed 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 fire light 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 soul 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 slitting specimen of the London slavey As to your practice, if a
gentleman walks into my room smelling of video form, with a black mark of
nightrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right 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 to be 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 quite as good as yours. Quite so, he answered,
lighting a cigarette and throwing himself down into an arm chair. 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 that 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
desired 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 wear 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 shoot theories instead of theories, to shoot 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 E 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 at all. The G with the small T stands for Geselschaft, which
is the German for company. It is a customary contraction like our c.
O. P, of course stands for papier. No for the E.
G let us glance at our continental gazetteer. He took down a heavy brown
volume from his shelves, Iglo Egloniz. 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. Haha, 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 a 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 the window a nice little
bruffum 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 that
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 arm chair, 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, which was rich
with a richness which would in England be looked upon as akin to bad taste.
Heavy bands of astricum were slashed across the sea leaves and fronts of his
devil breasted colt, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders
was lined with a flame colored silk and secured at the neck with a brooch
which consisted of a single flaming barrel. Boots which extended half way 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 vizard
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 strongly art German accent. I told you that I would call.
He looked from one to the other office 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 is
Count von cram 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 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 him self down in his arm chair 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
sprang 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 Gotthriich, Sigismund uvon Ormstein, Grand Duke of Castelfelstein, and
Hereditary Caing 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 adventurous 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 of 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 eighteen fifty eight,
contralto hum Lescola MM Primadonna Imperial Opera warsaw Yes retired from operatic stage a
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 failed
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 POOFU forgery, my private notepaper, stolen, my own seal, imitated
my photograph bot 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 a 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 Clotilda Lothmann bon 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
ivery Nadler 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 day shat, 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 Boncrombe. 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 the you have carte blanc, 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 adress. He asked, is
Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, Saint John's Wood. Holmes took a note of
it one other questions, 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 Bruffam rolled down the street. If you will be
good enough to call tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock, I should like to cat
this little matter over with you. 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
camped 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
choked and laughed again until he was obliged to slide 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 mourning 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 be on a lodge. It is a bije villa with a garden at
the back, but built out in front. Ride up to the road two
stories Chubb blocked 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
knowing anything else of interest. I then lounged down the street and found,
as I expected, that there was a muse 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 an exchanged twopence, a glass of half and
half, two fills of shagged 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 muse to a man. She lived 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 mister 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
muse and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had
to tell, I began to walk up and down near Brionny 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 Brionny 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 handsome cab drove up to beyond a lodge,
and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably handsome man, dark
aquiline and mustache, 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,
and 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 and Hankes in Regent Street, and then to the
church at Saint 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 at Saint 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 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 at Saint 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 twas 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 goodness, 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 operation. I shall be delighted. You don't mind breaking
the law, not in the least your running a chance of arrest. Not
in a good cause. Oh, the cause is excellent that I am your
man. I was sure that I might rely on you. But what is
it you wish? When missus 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 and pleasantness. Do not join in. 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 itself 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 mister 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 Brionny Lodge, waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was
just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes 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 mens, smoking and laughing in a corner, a
scissors grinder with its 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 mister 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 that she does not carry it about with her where then her banker
or her liar. 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 any one 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. Pshah, 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 sitters 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 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 we 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 born into Brionny 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 entrusted
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 was 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
led towards the Edgeware Road. You did it very nicely, doctor, he
remarked. Nothing could have been better. It is all 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
every one in the street was in 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 escape 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 tomorrow 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 hand. And when would 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 lit street. Now I wonder who the deuce
that could have been. 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 Bruffhelm
is waiting. Then that will simplify matters. We descended and started off once
more for Brionny Lodge. I reenn 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 moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in
Serpentine Avenue. The door of Brionny Lodge was open, and an elderly woman
stood upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped
from them. Mister Chulock Holmes, I believe, said she, I am
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 five fifteen train from sharing Cross
for the continent. What Sherlock holmestaggered back white withered Grian in 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 slighting shutter, and plunging
in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph was
of Irene Adler herself an evening dress. The letter was superscribed to Sherlock Holmes
esquire 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. You really did it very well. You
took me in completely. Until after the alarm of 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. Mail 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 called them, and came down just as you departed.
Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that
I was really an object of interest to this celebrated mister 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 tomorrow.
As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I love,
and I 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 to 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 remained, dear mister Sherlock Holmes,
truly yours Irene Norton nay 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 in violate. 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 Rolmes. 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 mister 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 referred
to her photograph, it is always under the honorable title of the woman.
End of a Scandal in Bohemia by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle