Speaker 1: The Adventure of the Second Stain by Sir Arthur Kernan Doyle.
I had intended the Adventure of the Abbey Grange to
be the last of those exploits of my friend mister
Shollock Holmes which I should ever communicate to the public.
This resolution of mine was not due to any lack
of material, since I have notes of many hundreds of
cases to which I have never alluded, nor was it
caused by any waning interest on the part of my
readers in the singular personality and unique methods of this
remarkable man. The real reason lay in the reluctance which
mister Holmes has shown to the continued publication of his experiences.
So long as he was in actual professional practice, the
records of his successes were of some practical value to him.
But since he has definitely retired from London and betaken
himself to study and bee farming on the Sussex Downs,
notoriety has become hateful to him, and he has peremptorily
requested that his wishes in this matter should be strictly observed.
It was only upon my representing to him that I
had given a promise that the adventure of the second
stain should be published when the times were ripe, and
pointing out to him that it is only appropriate that
this long series of episodes should culminate in the most
important international case which he has ever been called upon
to handle, that I at last succeeded in obtaining his
consent that a carefully guarded account of the incident should
at last be laid before the public. If in telling
the story I seem to be somewhat vague in certain details,
the public will readily understand that there is an excellent
reason for my reticence. It was then, in a year,
and even in a decade that shall be nameless, that
upon one Tuesday morning in autumn, we found two visitors
of European fame within the walls of our humble room
in Baker Street. The one, austere, high nosed, eagle eyed
and dominant, was none other than the illustrious Lord Bedinger,
twice Premier of Britain. The other, dark, clear cut and elegant,
hardly yet of middle age, and endowed with every beauty
of body and of mind, was the right Honorable Trelawny Hope,
Secretary for European Affairs, and the most rising statesman in
the country. They sat side by side upon our paper
littered settee, and it was easy to see from their
worn and anxious faces that it was business of the
most pressing importance which had brought them. The Premiere's thin,
blue veined hands were clasped tightly over the ivory head
of his umbrella, and his gaunt, ascetic face looked gloomily
from homes to me. The European of Secretary pulled nervously
at his mustache and fidgeted with the seals of his
watch chain. When I discovered my lost, mister Holmes, which
was at eight o'clock this morning, I at once informed
of the Primer Minister. It was at his suggestion that
we have both come to you. Have you informed the police? No, sir,
said the Prime Minister, with a quick, decisive manner for
which he was famous. We have not done so, nor
is it possible that we should do so. To inform
the police must, in the long run mean to inform
the public. This is what we particularly desire to avoid,
and why, sir, Because the documenting question is of such
immense importance that its publication might very easily, I might
almost say, probably lead to European complications of the utmost moment.
It is not too much to say that peace or
war may hang upon the issue. Unless its recovery can
be attended with the utmost secrecy, then it may as
well not be recovered at all. For all that is
aimed at by those who have taken it is that
its contents should be generally known. I understand now, mister Trelawney,
hope I shall be most obliged if you would tell
me exactly the circumstances under which this document disappeared. That
commit done in a very few words, mister Holmes. The
letter for it was a letter from a foreign potentate
was received six days ago. It was of such important
that I have never left it in my safe, but
have taken it across each evening to my house in
Whitehall Terrace and kept it in my bedroom in a
locked despatch box. It was there last night, of that
I am certain. I actually opened the box while I
was dressing for dinner and saw the document inside. This
morning it was gone. The despatch box had stood upside
the glass upon my dressing table all night. I am
a light sleeper, and so is my wife. We are
both prepared to swear that no one could have entered
the room during the night. Yet I repeat, the paper
is gone, and what time did you dine? Half past seven?
How long was it before you went to bed? My
wife had gone to the theater. I waited up for her.
It was half past eleven before we went to our room.
Then for four hours the despatch box had lain unguarded.
No one is ever permitted to enter that room save
the housemaid in the morning, and my valet or my
wife's maid during the rest of the day. They are
both trusty servants who have been with us for some time. Besides,
neither of them could possibly have known that there was
anything more valuable than the ordinary departmental papers in my
despatch box. Who did know of the existence of that letter?
No one in the house. Surely your wife knew. No, Sir,
I had said nothing to my wife until I missed
the paper this morning. The Premier nodded approvingly. I have
long known, sir. How high is your sense of public duty?
Said he. I am convinced that in the case of
a secret of this importance it would arise superior to
the most intimate domestic ties. The European secretary bowed. You
do me no more than justice, Sir. Until this morning,
I have never breathed one word to my wife upon
this matter. Could she have guessed? No, mister Homes She
could not have guessed, nor could any one have guessed.
Have you lost any documents before? No, sir, Who is
there in England who did know the existence of this letter?
Each member of the Cabinet was informed of it yesterday,
But the pledge of secrecy which attends every Cabinet meeting
was increased by the solemn warning which was given by
the Prime Minister. Could heavens to think that within a
few hours I should myself have lost it? His handsome
face was distorted with a spasm of despair, and his
hands tore at his hair. For a moment we caught
a glimpse of the natural man, impulsive, ardent, keenly sensitive.
The next the aristocratic mask was replaced and the gentle
voice had returned. Besides the member of the cabinet, there
are two or possibly three departmental officials who knew of
the letter. No one else in England, mister Holmes, I
assure you, But abroad I believe that no one abroad
has seen it save the man who wrote it. I
am well convinced that his ministers that the usual official
channels have not been employed. Holmes considered for some little time. Now, Sir,
I must ask you more particularly what this document is
and why its disappearance such of some such momentous consequences.
The two statesmen exchanged a quick glance, and the premiere's
shaggy eyebrows gathered in a frown. Mister Holmes that the
envelope is a long, thin one of pale blue color.
There is a seal of red wax stamped with a
crouching lion. It is addressed in large, bold handwriting to it.
I fear, sir, said Holmes, that interesting, in indeed essential,
as these details are, my inquiries must go more to
the root of things. What was the latter? That is
a state secret of the utmost importance, And I fear
that I cannot tell you, nor do I see that
it is necessary. If by the aid of the pas
which you are said to possess, you can find such
an envelope as I describe, with its enclosure, you will
have deserved well of your country and earned any reward
which it lies in our power to bestow Sharlock holmbs
rose the smile. You are two of the most busy
men in the country, said he, And in my own
small way, I have also a good many calls upon me.
I regret exceedingly that I cannot help you in this matter,
and any continuation of this interview would be a waste
of time. The Premier sprang to his feet with that quick,
fierce gleam of his deep set eyes before which a
cabinet has cowered. I am not accustomed, sir, he began,
but mastered his anger and resumed his seat. For a
minute or more, we all sat in silence. Then the
old statesman shrugged his shoulders. We must accept your terms,
mister Holmes. No doubt you are right, and it is
unreasonable for us to expect you to act unless we
give you our entire confidence. I agree with you, said
the younger statesman. Then I will tell you retire, lying
entirely upon your honor and that of your colleague, doctor Watson.
I may appeal to your patriotism also, for I could
not imagine a greater misfortune for the country than that
this affair should come out. You may safely trust us
The letter, then, is from a certain foreign POTENTATORO has
been ruffled by some recent colonial developments of this country.
It has been written hurriedly, and upon his own responsibility entirely.
Inquires have shown that his ministers know nothing of the matter.
At the same time, it is couched in so unfortunate
a manner, and certain phrases in it are of so
provocative a character, that its publication would undoubtedly lead to
a most dangerous state of feeling in this country. There
would be such a firment, sir, that I do not
hesitate to say that within a week of the publication
of that letter, this country would be involved in a
great war. Holmes wrote a name upon a slip of
paper and handed it to the premiere. Exactly it was he,
And it is this letter, this letter, which may well
mean the expenditure of a thousand millions and the lives
of a hundred thousand men, which has become lost in
this unaccountable fashion. Have you informed of the sender? Yes, sir,
cipher telegram has been dispatched. Perhaps he desires the publication
of the letter. No, sir, we have strong reason to
believe that he already understands that he is acted in
an indiscreet and hot headed manner. It would be a
greater blow to him and to his country than to
us if this letter were to come out. If this
is so, whose interest is it that the letter should
come out? Why should any one desire to steal it
or to publish it? There, mister Holmes, you take me
into regions of high international politics. But if you consider
the European situation, you will have no difficulty in perceiving
the motive. The whole of Europe is an armed camp.
There is a double league which makes a fair balance
of military power. Great Britain holds the scales. If Britain
were driven into war with one confederacy, it was sure
the supremacy the other confederacy, whether they john in the
war or not. Do you follow very clearly? It is
then the interest of the enemies of this potentate to
secure and publish this letter, so as to make a
breach between his country and ours, Yes, sir, And to
whom would this document be sent if it fell into
the hands of an enemy, to any of the great
chancellories of Europe. It is probably speeding on its way thither.
At the present instant, as fast as steam can take it.
Mister Trelawney. Hope dropped his head on his chest and
groaned aloud. The premiere placed his hand kindly upon his shoulder.
It is your misfortune, my dear Fedo. No one can
blain you. There is no precaution which you have neglected. Now,
mister Holmes, you are in full possession of the facts.
What course do you recommend? Holmes shook his head mournfully.
You think, sir, that unless this document is recovered, there
will be war? I think it is very probable, then, sir,
prepare for war. That is a hard saying, mister Holmes.
Consider the fact, sir. It is inconceivable that it was
taken after eleven thirty at night, since I understand that
mister Hope and his wife were both in the room
from that hour until the loss was found out. It
was taken then yesterday evening between seven thirty and eleven thirty,
probably near the earlier hour. Since whoever took it evidently
knew that it was there, it would naturally secure it
as early as possible. Now, sir, if a document of
this importance were taken at that hour, where can it
be now? No one has any reason to retain it.
It has been passed rapidly on to those who need it.
What chance have we now to overtake it, or even
to trace it? It is beyond our reach. The Prime
Minister rose from the city. What you say is perfectly logical,
mister Holmes, I feel that the matter is indeed out
of our hands. Let us presume, for argument's sake, that
the document was taken by the maid or by the valet.
They are both old and tried servants. I understand you
to say that your room is on the second floor,
that there is no entrance from without, and that from
within no one could go up unobserved. It must then
be somebody in the house who has taken it. To
whom would the thief take it to? One of several
international spies and secret agents whose names are tolerably familiar
to me. There are three who may be said to
be the heads of their profession. I will begin my
research by going round and finding if each of them
is at his post. If one is missing, especially if
he has disappeared since last night, we will have some
indication as to where the document has gone. Why should
he be missing? Asked the European Secretary. He would take
the letter to an embassy in London as likely as not.
I fancy not. These agents work independently and their relations
with the embassies are often strained. The Prime Minister nodded
his acquiescence. I believe you are right, mister Holmes. He
would take so valuable a prize to headquarters with his
own hands. I think that your course of action is
an excellent one. Meanwhile, hope we cannot neglect all our
other duties on account of this one misfortune. Should there
be any fresh developments during the day, we shall communicate
with you, and you will know. Nowt let us know
the results of your own inquiries. The two statesmen bowed
and walked gravely from the room. When our illustrious visitors
had departed, Holmes lit his pipe in silence and sat
for some time, lost in the deepest thought. I had
opened the morning paper and was immersed in a sensational
crime which occurred in London the night before. When my
friend gave an exclamation, sprang to his feet and laid
his pipe down upon the mantelpiece. Yes, said he, there
is no better way of approaching it. The situation is desperate,
but not hopeless. Even now, if we could be sh
which of them has taken it? It is just possible
that is not yet passed out of his hands. After all,
it is a question of money with these fellows, and
I have the British Treasury behind me. If it's on
the market, I'll buy it. If he means another penny
on the income tax, it is conceivable that fellow might
hold it back to see what bids come from this
side before he tries his luck on the other. There
are only those three capable of playing so bold a game.
There are oberlstein are off Their and Eduardo Lucas. I
was see each of them. I glanced at my morning paper.
Is that uh, Eduardo Lucas of Goudofin Street. Yes, now
you will not see him. Why not? He was murdered
in his house last night. My friend has so often
astonished me in the course of our adventures that it
was a sense of exultation that I realized how completely
I had astonished him, He said, stared in amazement, and
then snatched the paper from my hands. This was the
paragraph which I been engaged in reading when he rose
from his chair. Murder in Westminster a crime of mysterious
character was committed last night at sixteen Godolphin Street, one
of the old fashioned and secluded rows of eighteenth century
houses which lie between the river and the abbey, almost
in the shadow of the Great Tower of the Houses
of Parliament. This small but select mansion has been inhabited
for some years by mister Eduardo Lucas, well known in
society's circles, both on account of his charming personality and
because he has the well deserved reputation of being one
of the best amateur tenors in the country. Mister Lucas
is an unmarried man thirty four years of age, and
his establishment consists of missus Pringle, an elderly housekeeper, and
of Mitton, his valet. The former retires early and sleeps
at the top of the house. The valet was out
for the evening, visiting a friend at Hammersmith ten o'clock onward,
mister Lucas had the house to himself. What occurred during
that time has not yet transpired, but at a quarter
to twelve police Constable Barret, passing along Godolphin Street observed
that the door of number sixteen was ajar. He knocked,
but received no answer. Perceiving a light in the front room,
he advanced into the passage and again knocked, but without reply.
He then pushed open the door and entered. The room
was in a state of wild disorder, the furniture being
all swept to one side, and one chair lying on
its back in the center. Beside this chair, and still
grasping one of its legs, lay the unfortunate tenant of
the house. He had been stabbed to the heart and
must have died instantly. The knife with which the crime
being committed was a curved Indian dagger, plucked down from
a trophy of oriental arms which adorned one of the walls.
Robbery does not appear to have been the motive of
the crime, for there had been no attempt to remove
the valuable contents of the room. Mister Eduardo Lucas was
so well known and popular that his violent and mysterious
fate will arouse painful interest and intense sympathy in a
widespread circle of friends. Well, Watson, what do you make
of this? Asked Holmes, after a long pause. It is
an amazing coincidence. Her coincidence here is one of the
three men whom we have named as possible actors in
this drama, and he meets a violent death during the
very hours when we know that this drama was being enacted.
The odds are enormous against its being coincidence. No figures
could express them. No, my dear Watson, the two events
are connected, must be connected. It is for us to
find the connection. But now the official police must know all, No,
not at all, They know all they see at Godolphin Street,
they know and shall know nothing of Whitehalled Heras only
we know of both events and contrace the relation between them.
There is one obvious point which would in any case
of term my suspicions against Lucas. Godolphin Street, Westminster, is
only a few minutes walk from Whitehall Terrace. The other
secret agents whom I have named, live in the extreme
west end. It was easier therefore, for Lucas than for
the others to establish a connection or receive a message
from the European Secretary's household. A small thing, and yet
where events are compressed into a few hours, it may
prove essential. Helloa, what have we here? Missus Hudson had
appeared with a lady's card upon her Salver Holmes glanced
at it raised his eyebrows and handed it over to me.
Ask Lady Hilda Trelawney, hope if she will be kind
enough to step up, said he A moment later. Our
modest apartment, already so distinguished that morning, was further honored
by the entrance of the most lovely woman in London.
I had often heard of the beauty of the youngest
daughter of the Duke of Bellminster, but no description of it,
and no contum plation of colorless photographs had prepared me
for the subtle, delicate charm and the beautiful coloring of
that exquisite head. And yet as we saw it that
autumn morning, it was not its beauty which would be
the first thing to impress the observer. The cheek was lovely,
but it was paled with emotion. The eyes were bright,
but it was the brightness of fever. The sensitive mouth
was tight and drawn in an effort after self command. Terror,
not beauty, was what sprang first to the eye as
our fair visitor stood frame for an instant in the
open door. Has my husband been here, mister Holmes, Yes, madam,
he has been here. Mister Holmes. I implore you not
to tell him that I came here. Holmes bowed coldly
and motioned the lady to a chair. Your ladyship places
me in a very delicate position. I beg that you
will sit down and tell me what you desire, but
I fear that I cannot make any unconditional promise. She
swept across the room and seated herself with her back
to the window. It was a queenly presence, tall, graceful,
and intensely womanly. Mister Holmes, she said, and her white
glove's hands clasped and unclasped as she spoke. I must
speak frankly to you in the hope that it may
induce you to speak frankly to me in return. There
is complete confidence between my husband and me, and all
matters save one that one is politics. On this his
lips are sealed. He tells me nothing. Now. I am
aware that there was a most deplorable occurrence in our
house last night. I know that a paper has disappeared,
But because the matter is political, my husband refuses to
take me into his complete confidence. Now it is essential, essential,
I say that I should thoroughly understand it. You are
the only other person, save only these politicians who knows
the true facts. I beg you, then, mister Holmes, to
tell me exactly what has happened and what it will
lead to tell me all, mister Holmes, let no regard
for your client's interests keep you silence, for I assure
you that his interests, if you would only see it,
well be best served by taking me into his complete confidence.
What was this paper which was stolen? Madam? What you
asked me is really impossible. She groaned and sank her
face in her hands. You must see that this is so, madam.
If your husband thinks fit to keep you in the
dark over this matter, is it for me, who has
only learned the true facts under the pledge of professional secrecy,
to tell what he is withheld? It is not fair
to ask it. It is him whom you must ask.
I have asked him. I come to you as a
last resource, but without your telling me anything definite. Mister Holmes,
you may do a great service if you would inlighten
me on one point. What is it, madam? Is my
husband's political career likely to suffer through this incident? Well, madam.
Unless it is set right, it may certainly have a
very unfortunate effect. Ah she drew in her breath sharply,
as one whose doubts are resolved. One more question, mister Holmes,
from an expression which my husband dropped in the first
shock of this disaster, I understand that terrible public consequences
might arise from the loss of this document. If he
said so, I certainly cannot deny it. Of what nature
are they? Nay, Madam, there again you ask me more
than I can possibly answer. Then I will take up
no more of your time. I cannot blame you, mister Holmes,
for having refused to speak more freely, and you, on
your side, will not, I am sure think the worst
of me, because I desire, even against his will, to
share my husband's answer. Once more, I beg that you
will say nothing of my visit. She looked back at
us from the door, and I had a last impression
of that beautiful, haunted face, the startled eyes, then the
draw mouth. Then she was gone. Now, Watson, the fair
Sex is your department, said Holmes with a smile, when
the dwindling throofrew of skirts had ended in the slam
at the front door. What was the fair lady's game?
What did she really want? Surely her own statement is clear,
and her anxiety very natural. Humph. Think of her appearance, Watson,
and her manner, her suppressed excitement, he now restlessness, her
tenacity in asking questions. Remember that she comes of a
caste who do not likely show emotion. She was certainly
much moved. Remember was the curious earnestness with which she
assured us that it was best for her husband that
she should know all. What did she mean by that?
And you must to have observed, Watson, how she maneuvered to
have the light at her back. She did not wish
us to read her expression. Yes, she she chose the
only chair in the room and getting the maatives of
women are so inscrutable. You remember the woman at Margate
whom I suspected for the same reason no powder on
her nose. That proved to be the correct solution. How
can you build on such a quicksand their most trivial
action may mean volumes, or their most extraordinary conduct made
upon a hairpin or curling tongs. Good morning, Watson, you're off? Yes,
I will a while away the morning at Goudopin Street
with our friends of the regular Establishment, with Eduardo Lucas.
Lies the solution of our problem, though I must admit
that I have not an inkling as to what form
it may take. It is a capital mistake to theorize
in advance of the facts. Do you stay on guard,
my good Watson, and receive any fresh visitors. I'll join
you at lunch if I am able. All that day
and the next and the next Holmes was in a
mood which his friends would call taciturn and others morose.
He ran out and ran in, smoked, incessantly played snatches
on his violins, sank into reveries, devarred sandwidges at irregular hours,
and hardly answered the casual questions which I put to him.
It was evident to me that things were not going
well with him or his quest. He would say nothing
of the case, and it was from the papers that
I learned the particulars of the inquest and the arrests.
With the subsequent release of John Mitton, the valet of
the deceased, the coroner's jury brought in the obvious wilful murder,
but the parties remained as unknown. As ever, no motive
was suggested. The room was full of articles of value,
but none had been taken. The dead man's papers had
not been tampered with. They were carefully examined and showed
that he was a keen student of international politics, an
interfatigable gossip, a remarkable linguist, and an entiring letter writer.
He had been on intimate terms with the leading politicians
of several countries, but nothing sensational was discovered among the
documents which filled his drawers. As to his relations with women,
they appeared to have been promiscuous but superficial. He had
many acquaintances among them, but few friends, and no one
whom he loved. His habits were regular, his conduct inoffensive.
His death was an absolute mystery and likely to remain so.
As to the arrest of John mitton the valet, it
was a council of despair as an alternative to absolute inaction,
but no case could be sustained against him. He had
visited friends in Hammersmith that night. The alibi was complete.
It is true that he started home at an hour
which should have brought him to Westminster before the time
when the crime was discovered, but his own explanation that
he had walked part of the way seemed probable enough
in view of the fineness of the night. He had
actually arrived at twelve o'clock and appeared to be overwhelmed
by the unexpected tragedy. He had always been on good
terms with his master. Several of the dead man's possessions,
notably a small case of razors, had been found in
the valet's boxes, but he explained that they had been
presents from the deceased, and the housekeeper was able to
corroborate the story. Mitten had been in Lucas's employment for
three years. It was noticeable that Lucas did not take
Mitton on the content with him. Sometimes he visited Paris
for three months on end, but Mitton was left in
charge of the Godolphin Street house. As to the housekeeper,
she had heard nothing on the night of the crime.
If her master had a visitor, he had himself admitted him.
So for three mornings the mystery remained so far as
I could follow it in the papers. If Holmes knew more,
he kept his own counsel. But since he told me
that Inspector Lestrade take him into his confidence in the case,
I knew that he was in close touch with every development.
Upon the fourth day there appeared a long telegram from
Paris which seemed to solve the whole question. A discovery
had just been made by the Parisian police, said the
Daily Telegraph, which raises the veil which hung round the
tragic fate of mister Eduardo Lucas, who met his death
by violence last Monday night at Godolphin Street, Westminster. Our
readers will remember that the deceased gentleman was found stabbed
in his room, and that some suspicion attached to his valet,
but that the case broke down on an alibi. Yesterday,
a lady who has been known as Madame Auri Fourney,
occupying a small villa in the Rue Austerlitz, was reported
to the authorities by her servants as being insane. An
examination showed she had indeed developed mania of a dangerous
and per permanent form. On inquiry, the Piece of discovered
that Madame Auurri fournee only returned from a journey to
life London on Tuesday last and there is evidence to
connect her with the crime at Westminster. A comparison of
photographs has proved conclusively that Monsieur Ornifornee and Edeodo Luccas
were really one and the same person, and that the
deceased had for some reason lived a double life in
London and Paris. Madame Fournee, who is of Creole origin,
is of an extremely excitable nature, and has suffered in
the past from attacks of jealousy which have amounted to frenzy.
It is conjectured that it was in one of these
that she committed the terrible crime which has caused such
a sensation in London. Her movements upon the Monday night
have not yet been traced, but it is undoubted that
a woman answering to her description attracted much attention at
Charing Cross station on Tuesday morning by the wildness of
her appearance and the violence of her gestures. It is probable, therefore,
that the crime was either committed when insane, or that
its immediate effect was to drive the unhappy woman out
of her mind. At present, she is unable to give
any care here on account of the past, and the
doctors hold out no hopes of the re establishment of
her reason. There is it, ever, evidence that a woman
who might have been Madame Fourney was seen for some
hours upon Monday night watching the house in Goernolphin Street.
What do you think of that? Holmes? I read the
account aloud to him, when he finished his breakfast. My
dear Watson, said he as he rose from the table
and paced up and down the room. You are most
long suffering. But if I have told you nothing in
the last three days, it is because there is nothing
to tell. Even now. This report from Paris does not
help us much. Surely it is final as regards the
man's death. The man's death is a mere incident of
a trivial episode in comparison with our real task, which
is to trace this document and saving European catastrophe. Only
one important thing has happened in the last three days,
and that is that nothing has happened. I get reports
al miss ardy from the government, and it is certain
that nowhere in Europe is there any sign of trouble. Now,
if this letter were loose, no it can't be loose.
But if it isn't loose, where can it be? Who
has it? Why is it held back? That's the question
that beats in my brain like a hammer. Was it
indeed a coincident that Lucas should meet his death on
the night when the letter disappeared? Did the letter ever
reach him? If so, why is it not among his papers?
Did this mad wife of his carry it off with her.
If so is it in her house in Paris, how
could I search for it without the French police having
their suspicions arouse. It is a case, my dear Watson,
where the law is as dangerous to us as the
criminals are. Every man's hand is against us, and yet
the interests at stake are colossal. Should I bring it
to a successful conclusion, it will certainly represent the crowning
lorry of my career. Ah here is my latest from
the front. Held danced hurriedly at the note which had
been handed in Helloa, Lestrade seemed to have observed something
of interest. Put on your hat, Watson, and we will
stroll down together to Westminster. It was my first visit
to the scene of the crime. A high, dingy, narrow
chested house, prim formal and solid, like the sentry which
gave it birth. Lestrade's bulldog features gazed out at us
from the front window, and he greeted us warmly when
a big constable had opened the door and let us in.
The room into which we were shown was that in
which the crime had been committed, but no trace of
it now remained, save an ugly irregular stain upon the carpet.
This carpet was a small square druget in the center
of the room, surrounded by a broad expanse of beautiful
old fashioned wood flooring in square blocks, highly polished. Over
the fireplace was a magnificent trophy of weapons, one of
which had been used on that tragic night. In the
window was a sumptuous writing desk, and every detail of
the apartment, the pitchers, the rugs, and the hangings all
pointed to a taste which was luxurious to the verge
of effeminacy seen. The Paris News asked the Strarde, Holmes nodded.
Our French friends seemed to have touched the spot this time,
no doubt, it's just as they say. She knocked at
the door, surprised visit, I guess, for he kept his
life in watertight compartments. He let her in, couldn't keep
her in the street. She told him how she had
traced him, reproached him. One thing led to another, and
then with that dagger so hand in the end soon came.
It wasn't all done in an instant, though, for these
chairs were all swept over yonder, and he had one
in his hand, as if he had tried to hold
her off with it. We got it all clear as
if we had seen it. Holmes raised his eyebrows. And
yet you have sent for me. Ah, yes, that's another matter,
a mere trifle, but the sort of thing you'd take
an interest in queer, you know, and what you might
call for freakish. It's nothing to do with the main fact.
Can't have on the face of it. What is it? Then? Well,
you know, after a crime of this sort, we are
very careful to keep things in their possession. Nothing has
been moved Officer in charge here day and night, this
morning as the man was buried. In the investigation over
so far as this room is concerned, we thought we
could tidy up a bit. This carpet, you see, it's
not fastened down, and it just laid there. We had
occasion to raise it. We found, yes, you found. Hemes's
face grew tense with anxiety. I'm sure you would never
guess in a hundred years what we did find. You
see that stain on the carpet. What a great deal
must have soaked through, must it not? Undoubtedly it must. Well,
he was surprised to hear that there is no stain
on the white woodwork to correspond. No stain, But there
must n yes, so you would say. But the fact
remained that there isn't. He took the corner of the
carpet in his hand, and turning it over, he showed
us that it was indeed as he said. But the
underside is as stained as the upper. It must have
left a mark. Lestrade chuckled with delight at having puzzled
the famous expert. Now I'll show you the explanation. There
is a second stain, but it does not correspond with
the other. See for yourself. As he spoke, he turned
over another portion of the carpet, and there, sure enough
was a great crimson spill upon the square white facing
of the old fashioned floor. What do you make of that,
mister Olmes? Oh? Why, it is simple enough that two
stains did correspond. But the carpet has been turned round.
As it was square and unfastened, it was easily done.
The official police don't need you, mister Holmes, to tell
them that the carpet must have been turned round. That's
clear enough, for the stains lie above each other if
you lay it over this way. What I want to
know is who shift the carpet, and why I could
see from Holmes's rigid face that he was vibrating with
inward excitement. Look here, Lestrade said, he has that confortable
in the passage, been in charge of the place all
the time. Yes, he has. Well take my advice. Examine
him carefully. Don't do before us. We'll wait here. You
take him into the back room. You'll be more likely
to get a confession out of him alone. Ask him
how he dared to admit people and leave them alone
in this room. Don't ask him if he has done it,
take it for granted. Tell him you know some one
has been here. Press him, Tell him that a full
confession is his only chance of forgiveness. To exactly what
I tell you, by George. If he knows, I'll have
it out of him, cried Lestrade. He darted into the hall,
and a few moments later, his bullying voice sounded from
the back room. Now Watson now cried Holmes, with frenzied eagerness.
All the demoniacal force of the man masked behind that
listless manner burst out in a paroxysm energy. He tore
the drugget from the floor, and in an instant was
down on his hands and knees, throwing at each of
the squares of wood beneath it. One turned sideways. As
he dug his nails into the edge of it, it
hinged back like the lid of a box. A small
black cavity opened beneath it. Holmes plunged his eager hand
into it and drew it out with a bitter snarl
of anger and disappointment. It was empty. Quick, Watson, quick,
get it back again. The wooden lid was replaced, and
the drug it had only just been drawn straight when
Estrade's voice was heard in the passage. He found Holmes
leaning languidly against the mantelpiece, resigned and patient, endeavoring to
conceal his irrepressible yawns. Sorry to keep you waiting, mister Holmes,
I can see that you're bored to death with the
whole affair. Well, he has conversed. All right, come in here, Macpherson.
Let these gentlemen hear of your most inexcusable conduct. The
big Constable, very hot and penitent, sidled into the room.
I met no arm, sir. I'm sure the young woman
came into the door last evening mistook the house. She did,
and then we got talking. It's lonesome when you're on
duty here all day. Well what happened? Then? She wanted
to see where the crime was done and read about
it in the papers, she said. She was a very respectable,
well spoken young woman, sir, and I saw no army
letting ever peep. When she saw that mark on the
carpet down, she dropped on the floor and lay as
if she were dead. I ran to the back and
got some water. I couldn't bring her too. Then I
went round the corner to the ivy plant for some brandy.
But the time I brought it back, the young woman
who covered and was off shamed of herself. I dare say,
and dare not face me? How about moving that drug? It? Well, sir,
it was a bit rumpled certainly when I came back.
You see, she fell on it and it lies on
a polished floor with nothing to keep it in place.
I straightened it out afterwards. It's a lesson to you
that you can't deceive me, Counsel Macpherson said, Lestrade, with dignity,
no doubt, you thought that your breach of duty could
never we discovered yet a mere glance at that drug.
It was enough to convince me that someone had been
admitted to the room. It's lucky for you, my man,
that nothing is missing, or you would find yourself in
Queer Street. I'm sorry to have to call you down
over such a petty business, mister Olmes, but I thought
the point of the second stain, not corresponding with the first,
would interest you, certainly. It was most interesting. Has this
woman only been here once? Constable? Oh, yes, sir, any once?
Who was she? I don't know the name, Sir. Was
answering an adrasisment about typewriting and came to the wrong number.
Very pleasant, genteel young woman, sir. Tall handsome, Yes, sir,
she was a well grown young woman. I suppose you
might say she was handsome. Perhaps some would say she
was very handsome. How, officer, do let me have a peep?
Says she. She had pretty coaxing ways, as you might say,
And I thought there was no arm in letting her
just put her head through the door. How was she dressed? Quiet, sir?
A long mantled down to her feet. What time was it?
He was just growing dusk at the time. They were
lighting the lamps as I came back with the brandy,
HM many good, said Holmes. Come, Onson, I think that
we have more important work elsewhere. As we left the house,
Lestrade remained in the front room while the repentant Constable
opened the door to let us out. Holmes turned on
the step and held up something in his hand. The
Constable stared intently. Good Lord, sir, he cried, with amazement
on his face. Holmes put his finger on his lips,
replaced his hand in his breast pocket, and burst out laughing.
As we turned down the street, excellent, said he. Come,
friend Watson, the curtain rings up for the last act.
You will be relieved to hear that there will be
no war, that the right Honorable Trattorney Hope will suffer
no set back in his brillined career, that the indiscreet
Sovereign will receive no punishment for his indiscretion, That the
Prime Minister will have no European complication to you'll do
with and that with a little tact and management upon
our part, nobody will be a penny the worse for
what might have been a very ugly incident. My mind
filled with admiration for this extraordinary man you have solved it.
I cried hardly that Watson, there are some points which
are as dark as ever. But we have so much
that it will be our own fault. We cannot get
the rest. We will go straight to Whitehall Terrace and
bring the matter to a head. When we arrived at
the residence of the European Secretary, it was for lady
Hilda Trelawny Hope that Sherlock Holmes inquired. We were shown
into the morning room, mister Holmes said the lady, and
her face was pink with her indignation. This is surely
most unfair and ungenerous upon your part. I desired, as
I have explained, to keep my visit to you a secret,
lest my husband should think that I was intruding into
his affairs. And yet you compromise me by coming here
and so showing that there are business relations between us. Rutunately, Madam,
I had no possible alternative. I have been commissioned to
recover this immensely important paper. I must therefore ask you, Madam,
to be kind enough to place it in my hands.
The lady sprang to her feet, with the color all
dashed in an instant from her beautiful face. Her eyes glazed,
she tottered. I thought that she would faint. Then with
a grand effort, she rad it from the shock, and
as whose supreme astonishment and indignation chased every other expression
from her features. You you insult me, mister Holmes. Come come, madam.
It is useless. Give up the letter. She darted to
the bell. The butler shall show you out. Do not ring,
Lady Hilda. If you do, then all my earnest efforts
to avoid a scandal will be frustrated. Give up the
letter and all will be set right. If you will
work with me, I can arrange everything. If you work
against me, I must expose you. She stood grandly defiant,
a queenly figure, her eyes fixed up upon his, as
if she she would read his very soul. Her hand
was on the bell, but she had forborne to ring it.
You are trying to frighten me. It is not a
very manly thing, mister Holmes, to come here and browbeat
a woman. You say that you know something. What is
it that you know? Praise it down, madam. You will
hurt yourself there if you fall. I will not speak
until you sit down. Thank you. I give you five
minutes mister Holmes, one is enough. Lady Hilda. I know
of your visit to Eduardo Lucas, of your giving him
this document, of your ingenious return to the room last night,
and of the manner in which you took the letter
from the hiding place under the carpet. She stared at
him with an ashen face and gulped twice before she
could speak. You are mad, mister Holmes, You are mad,
she cried. At last, he drew a small piece of
cardboard from his pocket. It was the face of a
woman cut out of a portrait. I have carried this
because I thought might be useful, said he. The policeman
has recognized it. She gave a gasp and her head
dropped back in the chair. Come, lady Hilda, you have
the letter. The matter may still be adjusted. I have
no desire to bring trouble to you. My duty ends
when I have returned the lost letter to your husband.
Take my advice and be frank with me. It is
your only chance. Her courage was admirable. Even now. She
would not own defeat. I tell you, again, mister Holmes,
that you are under some absurd illusion. Holmes rose from
his chair. I am sorry. I for you, Lady Hilda,
I have done my best for you. I can see
that it is all in vain. He rang the bell.
The butler entered, Is mister Trelawney hope at home? You
be home, sir? At a quarter to one. Holmes glanced
at his watch, still a quarter of an hour, said
he very good, I shall wait. The butler had hardly
closed the door behind me when Lady Hilt was down
on her knees at Holmes's feet, her hands outstretched, her
beautiful face upturned and wet with her tears. Oh spare me,
is mister Holmes, spare me, she pleaded, in a frenzy
of supplication. For Heaven's sake, don't tell him I love
him so I would not bring one shadow on his life,
and this I know would break his noble heart. Holmes
raised the lady. I'm thankful, madam, that you've come to
your senses. Even at this last moment. There's not an
instant to lose. Where is the letter? She darted across
to a writing desk, unlocked it, and drew out a
long blue envelope. Here it is, mister Holmes, would heaven,
I'd never seen it? How can we return it, Holmes buttered,
quick quickly, we must think of some way. Where is
the despatch box still in his bedroom? What a stroke
of luck? Quick, madam, bring it here. A moment later,
she had appeared with a red flat box in her hand.
How did you open it before? You have a duplicate key? Yes,
of course you have open it. From out of her bosom,
Lady Hilda had drawn a small key. The box flew open.
It was stuffed with papers. Holmes thrust the blue envelope
deep down into the heart of them, between the leaves
of some other document. The box was shut, locked and
returned to the bedroom. Now we are ready for him,
said Holmes. We have still ten minutes. I am going
far to screen you, Lady Hilda. In return, you will
spend the time in telling me, frankly, the real meaning
of this extraordinary affair. Mister Holmes, I will tell you everything,
cried the lady. Oh, mister Holmes, I would cut off
my right hand before I gave him a moment of sorrow.
There is no woman in all London who loves my husband,
and eyes do. And yet if he knew how I
had acted, how I have been compelled to act he
would never forgive me, for his own honor stands so
high that he could not forget or pardoner lapse in another.
Help me, mister Holmes, my happiness, his happiness, Our very
lives are at stake quick matter, and the time grows shot.
It was a letter of mine, mister Holmes, an indiscreet
letter written before my marriage, A foolish letter, a letter
of an impulsive loving Ghala. I meant no harm, and
yet he would have thought it criminal. Had he read
that letter, his confidence would have been forever destroyed. It
is years since I wrote it. I had thought that
the whole matter was forgotten. Then at last I heard
from this man Lucas, that it had passed into his hands,
and that he would lay before my husband. I implored
his mercy. He said that he would return my letter
if I would bring him a certain document, which he
described in my husband's dispatch box. He had some spy
in the office who had told him of his existence.
He assured me that no harm could come to my husband.
Put yourself in my position, mister Holmes. What was I
to do? Take your husband into your confidence? I could not,
mister Holmes, I could not. On the one side seemed
certain ruin on the other terrible, as it seemed to
take my husband's paper. Still, in a matter of politics,
I could not understand the consequences, while on a matter
of love and trust they were only too clear to me.
I did it, mister Holmes. I took an impression of
his key. This man Lucas furnished a duplicate, opened his
dispatch box, took the paper and conveyed it to Gondolphin Street.
What happened there, Madam? I tapped at the doors. Agreed,
Lucas opened it. I followed him into his room, leaving
the hall door a jar behind me, for I feared
to be alone with the man. I remember that there
was a woman outside as I entered. Our business was
soon done. He had my letter on his desk. I
handed him the document. He gave me the letter. At
this instant there was a sound of the door. There
were steps in the passage. Lucas quickly turned back the druge.
It thrust the document into some hiding place there and
covered it over. What happened after that is like some
fearful dream. I have a vision of a dark, frantic face,
of a woman's voice, which screamed in French. My waiting
is not in vain. At last, at last, I have
found you with her. There was a savage struggler. I
saw him with a chair in his hand. A knife
gleamed in hers. I rushed from the horrible scene, ran
from the house, and only next morning in the paper
did I learn the dreadful result. That night, I was happy,
for I had my letter, and I had not seen
yet what the future would bring. It was the next
morning that I realized that I'd only exchanged one trouble
for another. My husband's anguish at the loss of his
paper went to my heart. I could hardly prevent myself
from there and then kneeling down at his feet and
telling him what I had done. But that again would
mean a confession of the past. I came to you
that morning in order to understand the full enormity of
my fence. From the instant that I grasped it, my
whole mind was turned to the one thought of getting
back my husband's pace. It must still be where Lucas
had placed it, for it was concealed before this dreadful
woman entered the room. If it had not been for
her coming, I should not have known where his hiding
place was. How was I to get into the room.
For two days I watched the place, but the door
was never left open. Last night I made a last attempt.
What I did and how I succeeded, you have already learned.
I brought the paper back from me and thought of
destroying it, since I could see no way of returning
it without confessing my guilt to my husband. And I
hear his step upon the stair. The Eupian secretary burst
excitedly into the room. Any news, mister Holmes, Any news,
he cried, I have some hopes, I think heaven. His
face became radiant. The Prime Minister is lunching with me.
May he share your hopes? He has nerves of steel,
and yet I know that he has hardly slept since
this terrible event. Jacobs, what do you ask the Prime
Minister to come up? As to you? Dear? I fear
that this is a matter of politics. We'll join you
in a few minutes. In the dining room, the Prime
Minister's manner was subdued, but I could see, by the
gleam of his eyes and the twitchings of his bony
hands that he shared the excitement of his young colleague.
I understand that you have something to report, mister Holmes,
A purely negative as yet, my friend answered. I have
inquired at every point where it might be, and I
am sure that there is no danger to be apprehended.
But that is not enough, mister Holmes. We cannot live
forever on such a volcano. We must have something definite.
I am in hopes of getting it. That is why
I am here. The more I think of the matter,
the more convinced I am that the letter has never
left this house, mister Holmes. If it had, it would
certainly have been public by now. But why should anyone
take it in order to keep it in this house?
I am not convinced that anybody did take it. Then
how could it leave the dispatch box? I am not
convinced that it ever did leave the despatch box. Mister Holmes.
Is joking is very old timed. You have my assurance
that it left the box. Have you examined the box
since Tuesday morning? No, it was not necessary. You may
conceivably have overlooked it. Impossible, I say, but I am
not convinced of it. I have known such things to happen.
I presume there are other papers there when it pay
have got mixed with them. It was on the top.
Someone may have shaken the box and displaced it. No, no,
I had everything out. Oh surely it is easily decided, Hope,
said the Premiere. Let us have the despatch box brought in.
The secretary round the bell, Jacobs, bring down my dispatch box.
This is a fascical waste of time. But still, if
nothing else will satisfy you, it shall be done. Thank you, Jacobs.
Put it here. I've always had the key on my
watch chain. Here are the papers you see. Letters from
Lord Merrow, report from Sir Charles Hardy, memorandum from Belgrade,
note on the Russo German grain taxes, letter from Madrid,
note from Lord good Heaven. What is this, Lord Blacher,
Lord Bleacher. The Premier snatched the blue envelope from his hand. Yes,
it is it, and the letter is intact. Hope. I
congratulate you, oh, thank you, thank you. What I wait
from my heart? But this is inconceivable, impossible. Mister Holmes,
you are a wizard, a sorcerer. How did you know
it was there? Because I knew it was nowhere else.
I cannot believe my eyes. He ran wildly to the door.
Where's my wife? I must tell her that all is well. Hilda, Hilda.
We heard his voice on the stairs. The Premier looked
at Holmes with twinkling eyes. It come, sir, said he.
There is more in this than meets the eye. How
came the letter back in the box? Holmes turned away,
smiling from the keen scrutiny of those wonderful eyes. We
also have our diplomatic secrets, said he, and picking up
his hat, he turned to the door. End of the
Adventure of the Second Stain