Conan Doyle
The July which immediately succeeded my marriage was made memorable by threecases of interest in which I had the privilege of being associated with SherlockHolmes, and of studying his methods. I find them recorded in my notes under theheadings of the adventure of the Second stain, the adventure of the naval treaty,and the adventure of the tired captain. The first of these, however, deals withinterests of such importance, and implicates so many of the first families in thekingdom, that for many years it will be impossible to make it public. No case,however, in which Holmes was ever engaged has illustrated the value of his analyticalmethods so clearly or has impressed those who were associated with him so deeply. Istill retain an almost verbatim report of the interview in which he demonstrated thetrue facts of the case to Monsieur Dubuque, of the Paris police, and fritz vonWaldbaum, the well-known specialist of Dantzig, both of whom had wasted theirenergies upon what proved to be side-issues. The new century will have come,however, before the story can be safely told. Meanwhile, I pass on to the second uponmy list, which promised also, at one time, to be of national importance, and wasmarked by several incidents which give it a quite unique character.During my school-days I had been intimately associated with a lad named PercyPhelps, who was of much the same age as myself, though he was two classes ahead ofme. He was a very brilliant boy, and carried away every prize which the school had tooffer, finishing his exploits by winning a scholarship, which sent him on to continuehis triumphant career at Cambridge. He was, I remember, extremely well connectedand ever when we were all little boys together, we knew that his mothers brother wasLord Holdhurst, the great Conservative politician. This gaudy relationship did himlittle good at school; on the contrary, it seemed rather a piquant thing to us to chevyhim about the playground and hit him over the shins with a wicket. But it was anotherthing when he came out into the world. I heard vaguely that his abilities and theinfluence which he commanded had won him a good position at the Foreign Office,and then he passed completely out of my mind until the following letter recalled hisexistence:
BRIARBRAE, WOKING
MY DEAR WATSON, ----- I have no doubt that you can remember tadpole Phelps,who was in the fifth form when you were in the third. It is possible even that you mayhave heard that, through my uncles influence, I obtained a good appointment at theForeign Office, and that I was in situation of trust and honour until a horriblemisfortune came suddenly to blast my career.
There is no use writing the details of that dreadful event. In the event of youracceding to my request, it is probable that I shall have narrated them to you. I haveonly just recovered from nine weeks of brain fever, and am still exceedingly weak. Doyou think that you could bring your friend, Mr. Holmes, down to see me? I should liketo have his opinion of the case, though the authorities assure me that nothing more canbe dong. Do try to bring him down, and as soon as possible. Every minute seems anhour while I live in this horrible suspense. Assure him that, if I have not asked hisadvice sooner, it was not because I did not appreciate his talents, but because I havebeen off my head ver since the blow fell. Now I am clear again, though I dare notthink of it too much for fear of a relapse. I am still so weak that I have to write, as yousee, by dictating. Do try and bring him.Your old schoolfellow,PERCY PHELPS
There was something that touched me as I read this letter, something pitiable in thereiterated appeals to bring Holmes. So moved was I that, even if it had been a difficultmatter, I should have tried it; but, of course, I knew well that Holmes loved his art so,that he was ever as ready to bring his aid as his client could be to receive it. My wifeagreed with me that not a moment should be lost in laying the matter before him, andso, within an hour of breakfast-time, I found myself back once more in the old roomsin Baker Street.
Holmes was seated at his side-table clad in his dressing-gown and working hardover a chemical investigation. A large curved retort was boiling furiously in the bluishflame of a Bunsen burner, and the distilled drops were condensing into a two-litremeasure. My friend hardly glanced up as I entered, and I, seeing that his investigationmust be of importance, seated myself in an arm-chair and waited. He dipped into thisbottle or that, drawing out a few drops of each with his glass pipette, and finallybrought a test-tube containing a solution over to the table. In his right hand he had aslip of litmus-paper.
You come at a crisis, Watson, said he. If this paper remains blue, all is well. If itturns red, it means a mans life. He dipped it into the test-tube, and it flushed at onceinto a dull, dirty crimson. Hum! I thought as much! he cried. I shall be at yourservice in one instant, Watson. You will find tobacco in the Persian slipper. He turnedto his desk and scribbled off several telegrams, which were handed over to thepage-boy. Then he threw himself down in the chair opposite, and drew up his kneesuntil his fingers clasped round his long, thin shins.
A very commonplace little murder, said he. Youve got something better, I fancy.You are the stormy petrel of crime, Watson. What is it?
I handed him the letter, which he read with the most concentrated attention.
It does not tell us very much, does it? he remarked, as he handed it back to me.
Hardly anything.
And yet the writing is not his own.
Precisely. It is a womans.
A mans surely! I cried.
No, a womans; and a woman of rare character. You see, at the commencement ofan investigation, it is something to know that your client is in close contact withsomeone who for good or evil has an exceptional nature. My interest is alreadyawakened in the case. If you are ready, we will start at once for Woking and see thisdiplomatist who is in such evil case, and the lady to whom he dictates his letters.
We were fortunate enough to catch an early train at Waterloo, and in a little underan hour we found ourselves among the fir-woods and the heather of Woking.Briarbrae proved to be a large detached house standing in extensive grounds, within afew minutes walk of the station. On sending in our cards we were shown into anelegantly appointed drawing-room, where we were joined in a few minutes by a ratherstout man, who received us with much hospitality. His age may have been nearer fortythan thirty, but his cheeks were so ruddy and his eyes so merry, that he still conveyedthe impression of a plump and mischievous boy.
I am so glad that you have come said he, shaking our hands with effusion. Percyhas been inquiring for you all the morning. Ah, poor old chap, he clings to any straw.His father and mother asked me to see you, for the mere mention of the subject is verypainful to them.
We have had no details yet, observed Holmes. I perceive that you are notyourself a member of the family.
Our acquaintance looked surprised, and then glancing down he began to laugh.
Of course you saw the J. H. Monogram on my locket, said he. For a moment Ithought you had done something clever. Joseph Harrison is my name, and as Percy isto marry my sister Annie, I shall at least be a relation by marriage. You will find mysister in his room, for she has nursed him hand-and-foot these two months back.Perhaps we had better go in at once, for I know how impatient he is.
The chamber into which we were shown was on the same floor as thedrawing-room. It was furnished partly as a sitting- and partly as a bedroom, withflowers arranged daintily in every nook and corner. A young man, very pale and worn,was lying upon a sofa near the open window, through which came the rich scent of thegarden and the balmy summer air. A woman was sitting beside him, and rose as weentered.
Shall I leave, Percy? she asked.
He clutched her hand to detain her. How are you, Watson? said he, cordially. Ishould never have known you under that moustache, and I dare say you would not beprepared to swear to me. This, I presume, is your celebrated friend, Mr. SherlockHolmes?
I introduced him in a few words, and we both sat down. The stout young man hadleft us, but his sister still remained, with her hand in that of the invalid. She was astriking-looking woman, a little short and thick for symmetry, but with a beautifulolive complexion, large, dark Italian eyes, and a wealth of deep black hair. Her richtints made the white face of her companion the more worn and haggard by thecontrast.
I wont waste your time, said he, raising himself upon the sofa. Ill plunge intothe matter without further preamble. I was a happy and successful man, Mr. Holmes,and on the eve of being married, when a sudden and dreadful misfortune wrecked allmy prospects in life.
I was, as Watson may have told you, in the Foreign Office, and through theinfluence of my uncle, Lord Holdhurst, I rose rapidly to a responsible position. Whenmy uncle became Foreign Minister in this Administration he gave me severalmissions of trust, and as I always brought them to a successful conclusion, he came atlast to have the utmost confidence in my ability and tact.
Nearly ten weeks ago- to be more accurate, on the 23rd of May he called me intohis private room and, after complimenting me upon the good work which I had done,informed me that he had a new commission of trust for me to execute.
This, said he, taking a grey roll of paper from his bureau, is the original of thatsecret treaty between England and Italy, of which, I regret to say, some rumours havealready got into the public Press. It is of enormous importance that nothing furthershould leak out. The French or Russian Embassies would pay an immense sum learnthe contents of these papers. They should not leave my bureau were it not that it isabsolutely necessary to have them copied. You have a desk in your office?
Yes, sir.
Then take the treaty and lock it up there. I shall give directions that you mayremain behind when the others go, so that you may copy it at your leisure, withoutfear of being overlooked. When you have finished, re-lock both the original and thedraft in the desk, and hand them over to personally to-morrow morning.
I took the papers and--
Excuse me an instant, said Holmes; were you alone during this conversation?
Absolutely.
In a large room?
Thirty feet each way.
In the centre?
Yes, about it.
And speaking low?
My uncles voice is always remarkably low. I hardly spoke at all.
Thank you, said Holmes, shutting his eyes; pray go on.
I did exactly what he had indicated, and waited until the other clerks had departed.One of them in my room, Charles Gorot, had some arrears of work to make up, so Ileft him there and went out to dine. When I returned he was gone. I was anxious tohurry my work, for I knew that Joseph, the Mr. Harrison whom you saw just now, wasin town, and that he would travel down to Woking by the eleven oclock train, and Iwanted if possible to catch it.
When I came to examine the treaty I saw at once that it was of such importancethat my uncle had been guilty of no exaggeration in what he had said. Without goinginto details, I may say that it defined the position of Great Britain towards the TripleAlliance, and foreshadowed the policy which this country would pursue in the eventof the French fleet gaining a complete ascendency over that of Italy in theMediterranean. The questions treated in it were purely naval. At the end were thesignatures of the high dignitaries who had signed it. I glanced my eyes over it, andthen settled down to my task of copying.
It was a long document, written in the French language, and containing twenty-sixseparate articles. I copied as quickly as I could, but at nine oclock I had only donenine articles, and it seemed hopeless for me to attempt to catch my train. I was fellingdrowsy and stupid, partly from my dinner and also from the effects of along dayswork. A cup of coffee would clear my brain. A commissionaire remains all night in alittle lodge at the foot of the stairs, and is in the habit of making coffee at hisspirit-lamp for any of the officials who may be working overtime. I rang the bell,therefore, to summon him.
To my surprise, it was a woman who answered the summons, a large, coarse-faced,elderly woman, in an apron. She explained that she was the commissionaires wife,who did the charing, and I gave her the order for the coffee.
I wrote two more articles, and then, feeling more drowsy than ever, I rose andwalked up and down the room to stretch my legs. My coffee had not yet come, and Iwondered what the cause of the delay could be. Opening the door, I started down thecorridor to find out. There was a straight passage dimly lit which led from the room inwhich I had been working, and was the only exit from it. It ended in curving staircase,with the commissionaires lodge in the passage at the bottom. Half-way down thisstaircase is a small landing, with another passage running into it at right angles. Thesecond one leads, by means of a second small stair, to a side-door used by servants,and also as a short cut by clerks when coming from Charles Street.
Here is a rough chart of the place.
Thank you. I think that I quite follow you, said Sherlock Holmes.
It is of the utmost importance that you should notice this point. I went down thestairs and into the hall, where I found the commissionaire fast asleep in his box, withthe kettle boiling furiously upon the spirit-lamp, for the water was spurting over thefloor. I had put out my hand and was about to shake the man, who was still sleepingsoundly, when a bell over his head rang loudly, and he woke with a start.
Mr. Phelps, sir! said he, looking at me in bewilderment.
I came down to see if my coffee was ready.
I was boiling the kettle when I fell asleep, sir. He looked at me and then up atthe still quivering bell, with an ever-growing astonishment upon his face.
If you was here, sir, then who rang the bell? he asked.
The bell! I said. What bell is it?
Its the bell of the room you were working in.
A cold hand seemed to close round my heart. Someone, then, was in that roomwhere my precious treaty lay upon the table. I ran frantically up the stairs and alongthe passage. There was no one in the corridor, Mr. Holmes. There was no one in theroom. All was exactly as I left it, save only that the papers committed to my care hadbeen taken from the desk on which they lay. The copy was there and the original wasgone.
Holmes sat up in his chair and rubbed his hands. I could see that the problem wasentirely to his heart. Pray, what did you do then? he murmured.
I recognized in an instant that the thief must have come up the stairs from theside-door. Of course I must have met him if he had come the other way.
You were satisfied that he could not have been concealed in the room all the time,or in the corridor which you have just described as dimly lighted?
It is absolutely impossible. A rat could not conceal himself either in the room orthe corridor. There is no cover at all.
Thank you. Pray proceed.
The commissionaire, seeing by may pale face that something was to be feared, hadfollowed me upstairs. Now we both rushed along the corridor and down the steepsteps which led to Charles Street. The door at bottom was closed but unlocked. Weflung it open and rushed out. I can distinctly remember that as we did so there camethree chimes from a neighbouring church. It was a quarter to ten.
That is of enormous importance, said Holmes, making a note upon his shirt cuff.
The night was very dark, and a thin, warm rain was falling. There was no one inCharles Street, but a great traffic was going on, as usual, in Whitehall, at the extremity.We rushed along the pavement, bareheaded as we were, and at the far corner we founda policeman standing.
A robbery has been committed, I gasped. A document of immense value hasbeen stolen from the Foreign Office. Has anyone passed this way?
I have been standing here for a quarter of an hour, sir, said he; only one personhas passed during that time--a woman, tall and elderly, with a Paisley Shawl.
Ah, that is only my wife, cried the commissionaire. Has no one else passed?
No one.
Then it must be the other way that the thief took, cried the fellow, tugging at mysleeve.
But I was not satisfied, and the attempts which he made to draw me awayincreased my suspicions.
Which way did the woman go? I cried.
I dont know, sir. I noticed her pass, but I had no special reason for watching her.She seemed to be in a hurry.
How long ago was it?
Oh, not very many minutes.
Within the last five?
Well, it could not be more than five.
Youre only wasting your time, sir, and every minute now is of importance,cried the commissionaire. Take my word for it that my old woman has nothing to dowith it, and come down to the other end of the street. Well, if you wont, I will, andwith that he rushed off in the other direction.
But I was after him in an instant and caught him by the sleeve.
Where do you live? said I.
No. 16 Ivy Lane, Brixton, he answered; but dont let yourself be drawn awayupon a false scent, Mr. Phelps. Come to the other end of the street, and let us see if wecan hear of anything.
Nothing was to be lost by following his advice. With the policeman we bothhurried down, but only to find the street full of traffic, many people coming and going,but all only too eager to get to a place of safety upon so wet a night. There was nolounger who could tell us who had passed.
Then we returned to the office, and searched the stairs and the passage withoutresult. The corridor which led to the room was laid down with a kind of creamylinoleum, which shows an impression very easily. We examined it very carefully, butfound no outline of any footmark.
Had it been raining all the evening?
Since about seven.
How is it, then, that the woman who came into the room about nine left no traceswith her muddy boots?
I am glad you raise the point. It occurred to me at the time. The charwomen are inthe habit of taking off their boots at the commissionaires office, and putting on listslippers.
That is very clear. There were no marks, then, though the night was a wet one?The chain of events is certainly one of extraordinary interest. What did you do next?
We examined the room also. There was no possibility of a secret door, and thewindows are quite thirty feet from the ground. Both of them were fastened on theinside. The carpet prevents any possibility of a trap-door, and the ceiling is of theordinary white-washed kind. I will pledge my life that whoever stole my papers couldonly have come through the door.
How about the fireplace?
They use none. There is a stove. The bell-rope hangs from the wire just to the rightof my desk. Whoever rang it must have come right up to the desk to do it. But whyshould any criminal wish to ring the bell? It is a most insoluble mystery.
Certainly the incident was unusual. What were your next steps? You examined theroom, I presume, to see if the intruder had left any traces--any cigar-end, or droppedglove, or hairpin, or other trifle?
There was of nothing of the sort.
No smell?
Well, we never thought of that.
Ah, a scent of tobacco would have been worth a great deal to us in such aninvestigation.
I never smoke myself, so I think I should have observed it if there had been anysmell of tobacco. There was absolutely no clue of any kind. The only tangible factwas that the commissionaires wife--Mrs. Tangey was the name--had hurried out ofthe place. He could give no explanation save that it was about the time when thewoman always went home. The policeman and I agreed that our best plan would be toseize the woman before she could get rid of the papers, presuming that she had them.
The alarm had reached Scotland Yard by this time, and Mr. Forbes, the detective,came round at once and took up the case with a great deal of energy. We hired ahansom, and in half an hour we were at the address which had been given to us. Ayoung woman opened the door, who proved to be Mrs. Tangeys eldest daughter. Hermother had to come back yet, and we were shown into the front room to wait.
About ten minutes later a knock came at the door, and here we made the oneserious mistake for which we allowed the girl to do so. We heard her say, Mother,there are two men in the house waiting to see you, and an instant afterwards weheard the patter of feet rushing down the passage. Forbes flung open the door, and weboth ran into the back room or kitchen, but the woman had got there before us. Shestared at us with defiant eyes, and then suddenly recognizing me, an expression ofabsolute astonishment came over her face.
Why, if it isnt Mr. Phelps, of the office! she cried.
Come, come, who did you think we were when you ran away from us? asked mycompanion.
I thought you were the brokers, said she. Weve had some trouble with atradesman.
Thats not quite good enough, answered Forbes. We have reason to believe thatyou have taken a paper of importance from the Foreign Office, and that you ran in herto dispose of it. You must come back with us to Scotland Yard to be searched.
It was in vain that she protested and resisted. A four-wheeler was brought, and weall three drove back in it. We had first made an examination of the kitchen, andespecially of the kitchen fire, to see whether she might have made away with thepapers during the instant that she was alone. There were no signs. However, of anyashes or scraps. When we reached Scotland Yard she was handed over at once to thefemale searcher. I waited in an agony of suspense until she came back with her report.There were no signs of the papers.
Then, for the first time, the horror of my situation came in its full force upon me.Hitherto I had been so confident of regaining the treaty at once that I had not dared tothink of what would be the consequence if I failed to do so. But now there wasnothing more to be done, and I had leisure to realize my position. It was horrible!Watson there would tell you that I was a nervous, sensitive boy at school. It is mynature. I thought of my uncle and of his colleagues in the Cabinet, of the shame whichI had brought upon him, upon myself, upon everyone connected with me. Whatthought I was the victim of an extraordinary accident? No allowance is made foraccidents where diplomatic interests are at stake. I was ruined; shamefully, hopelesslyruined. I dont know what I did. I fancy I must have made a scene. I have a dimrecollection of a group of officials who crowded round me endeavouring to soothe me.One of them drove down with me to Waterloo and saw me into the Woking train. Ibelieve that he would have come all the way had it not been that Dr. Ferrier, who livesnear me, was going down by that very train. The doctor most kindly took charge ofme, and it was well he did so, for I had a fit in the station, and before we reachedhome I was practically a raving maniac.
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