He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes inthe character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformistclergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his whitetie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering andbenevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could haveequalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. Hisexpression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with everyfresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even asscience lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist incrime.
It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it stillwanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves inSerpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were justbeing lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge,waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just suchas I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes' succinct description,but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. Onthe contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it wasremarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed mensmoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with hiswheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, andseveral well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down withcigars in their mouths.
"You see," remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front ofthe house, "this marriage rather simplifies matters. Thephotograph becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances arethat she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. GodfreyNorton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of hisprincess. Now the question is, Where are we to find thephotograph?"
"Where, indeed?"
/> "It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It iscabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman'sdress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaidand searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. Wemay take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her."
"Where, then?"
"Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. ButI am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive,and they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand itover to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, butshe could not tell what indirect or political influence might bebrought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that shehad resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where shecan lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house."
"But it has twice been burgled."
"Pshaw! They did not know how to look."
"But how will you look?"
"I will not look."
"What then?"
"I will get her to show me."
"But she will refuse."
"She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It isher carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter."
As he spoke the gleam of the side-lights of a carriage came roundthe curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau whichrattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one ofthe loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door inthe hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by anotherloafer, who had rushed up with the same intention. A fiercequarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, whotook sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder,who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, andin an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, wasthe centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, whostruck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmesdashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but just as he reachedher he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the bloodrunning freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took totheir heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, whilea number of better-dressed people, who had watched the scufflewithout taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and toattend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her,had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with hersuperb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, lookingback 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 begone before you can get him to hospital."
"He's a brave fellow," said a woman. "They would have had thelady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were agang, 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 comfortablesofa. This way, please!"
Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid outin the principal room, while I still observed the proceedingsfrom my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but theblinds had not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he layupon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized withcompunction at that moment for the part he was playing, but Iknow that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my lifethan when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I wasconspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waitedupon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treacheryto Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrustedto me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from undermy ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We arebut preventing her from injuring another.
Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a manwho is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open thewindow. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at thesignal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!" Theword was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd ofspectators, well dressed and ill--gentlemen, ostlers, andservant-maids--joined in a general shriek of "Fire!" Thick cloudsof smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. Icaught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voiceof Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm.Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the cornerof the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find myfriend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar.He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until wehad turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards theEdgeware Road.
"You did it very nicely, Doctor," he remarked. "Nothing couldhave been better. It is all right."
"You have the photograph?"
"I know where it is."
"And how did you find out?"
"She showed me, as I told you she would."
"I am still in the dark."