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 draw- ing
the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained
teasoner 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. Grit 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, of dubious and ques- tionable memory.
I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us
away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the
home-centred interests which rise up around 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 lodg- ings
in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from
week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsi- ness 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 Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of
the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, 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 shared 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, 1888 -- 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 in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes
again, and to know how he was employing his extraordi- nary
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 pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk
upon his chest 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 armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and
indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood
before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective
fashion.
"Wedlock suits 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 observe. 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 a few centuries ago. It is
true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a
dreadful mess, 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 fail 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 firelight strikes it, the
leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have
been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round
the edges of the sole 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 rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of
nitrate 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 ridicu- lously
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 as good as yours."
"Quite so," he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing
himself down into an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe.
The distinction is clear. For example, you have fre- quently 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 experi- ences, 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 desires 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 suit theories,
instead of theories to suit 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,
endeavouring 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," and a large
"G" with a small "f" 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 'Gesellschaft,'
which is the German for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction
like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for 'Papier.' Now for the 'Eg.' Let
us glance at our Continental Gazetteer." He took down a heavy
brown volume from his shelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz -- 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.'
Ha, ha, 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 the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and
grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the
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 draw- ing
the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained
teasoner 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. Grit 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, of dubious and ques- tionable memory.
I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us
away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the
home-centred interests which rise up around 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 lodg- ings
in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from
week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsi- ness 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 Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of
the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, 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 shared 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, 1888 -- 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 in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes
again, and to know how he was employing his extraordi- nary
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 pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk
upon his chest 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 armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and
indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood
before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective
fashion.
"Wedlock suits 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 observe. 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 a few centuries ago. It is
true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a
dreadful mess, 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 fail 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 firelight strikes it, the
leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have
been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round
the edges of the sole 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 rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of
nitrate 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 ridicu- lously
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 as good as yours."
"Quite so," he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing
himself down into an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe.
The distinction is clear. For example, you have fre- quently 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 experi- ences, 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 desires 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 suit theories,
instead of theories to suit 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,
endeavouring 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," and a large
"G" with a small "f" 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 'Gesellschaft,'
which is the German for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction
like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for 'Papier.' Now for the 'Eg.' Let
us glance at our Continental Gazetteer." He took down a heavy
brown volume from his shelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz -- 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.'
Ha, ha, 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 the 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 of the window. "A nice little brougham 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 armchair, 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
was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon
as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across
the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep
blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with
flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which
consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway
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 cheekbones, 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 a
strongly marked German accent. "I told you that I would call." He
looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to
address.
"Pray take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and
colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help
me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?"
"You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian
nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man
of honour 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 drily.
"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 himself
down in his armchair 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
Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of
out of the window. "A nice little brougham 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 armchair, 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
was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon
as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across
the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep
blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with
flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which
consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway
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 cheekbones, 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 a
strongly marked German accent. "I told you that I would call." He
looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to
address.
"Pray take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and
colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help
me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?"
"You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian
nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man
of honour 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 drily.
"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 himself
down in his armchair 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
Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of
To be Continue......
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