The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloakand laid it on the table.
"There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred innotes," he said.
Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book andhanded it to him.
"And Mademoiselle's address?" he asked.
"Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood."
Holmes took a note of it. "One other question," said he. "Was thephotograph a cabinet?"
"It was."
"Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soonhave some good news for you. And good-night, Watson," he added,as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. "Ifyou will be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at threeo'clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you."
II.
At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes hadnot yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left thehouse shortly after eight o'clock in the morning. I sat downbeside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him,however long he might be. I was already deeply interested in hisinquiry, for, though it was surrounded by none of the grim andstrange features which were associated with the two crimes whichI have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and theexalted station of his client gave it a character of its own.Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which myfriend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp ofa situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it apleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow thequick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the mostinextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariablesuccess that the very possibility of his failing had ceased toenter into my head.
It was close upon four before the door opened, and adrunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with aninflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room.Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use ofdisguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that itwas indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence heemerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old.Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs infront of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes.
"Well, really!" he cried, and then he choked and laughed againuntil he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in thechair.
"What is it?"
"It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how Iemployed my morning, or what I ended by doing."
"I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching thehabits, 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 thismorning in the character of a groom out of work. There is awonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one ofthem, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon foundBriony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, butbuilt out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lockto the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, wellfurnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and thosepreposterous English window fasteners which a child could open.Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage windowcould be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked roundit and examined it closely from every point of view, but withoutnoting anything else of interest.
"I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, thatthere was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of thegarden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses,and received in exchange twopence, a glass of half and half, twofills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desireabout Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people inthe neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, butwhose 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 isthe daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say theSerpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts,drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp fordinner. 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, andoften twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. Seethe advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven himhome a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him.When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk upand down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my planof campaign.
"This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in thematter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was therelation between them, and what the object of his repeatedvisits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If theformer, she had probably transferred the photograph to hiskeeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of thisquestion depended whether I should continue my work at BrionyLodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in theTemple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of myinquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have tolet you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand thesituation."
"I am following y
ou closely," I answered.
"I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cabdrove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was aremarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached--evidentlythe man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in agreat hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past themaid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughlyat home.
"He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catchglimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up anddown, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could seenothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried thanbefore. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch fromhis pocket and looked at it earnestly, 'Drive like the devil,' heshouted, 'first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street, and then tothe Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea ifyou do it in twenty minutes!'
"Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not dowell to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau,the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie underhis ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out ofthe buckles. It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the halldoor and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment,but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for.
"'The Church of St. Monica, John,' she cried, 'and half asovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.'
"This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancingwhether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind herlandau when a cab came through the street. The driver lookedtwice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he couldobject. 'The Church of St. Monica,' said I, 'and half a sovereignif you reach it in twenty minutes.' It was twenty-five minutes totwelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind.
"My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but theothers were there before us. The cab and the landau with theirsteaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paidthe man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul theresave the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, whoseemed to be expostulating with them. They were all threestanding in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the sideaisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church.Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round tome, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towardsme.
"'Thank God,' he cried. 'You'll do. Come! Come!'
"'What then?' I asked.