The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes | Page 5

That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an
indiscretion."
"I was mad--insane."
"You have compromised yourself seriously."
"I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now."
"It must be recovered."
"We have tried and failed."
"Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought."

"She will not sell."
"Stolen, then."
"Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked
her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she
has been waylaid. There has been no result."
"No sign of it?"
"Absolutely none."
Holmes laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem," said he.
"But a very serious one to me," returned the King reproachfully.
"Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?"
"To ruin me."
"But how?"
"I am about to be married."
"So I have heard."
"To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the
King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family.
She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my
conduct would bring the matter to an end."
"And Irene Adler?"
"Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that
she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has
the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most
resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are
no lengths to which she would not go--none."

"You are sure that she has not sent it yet?"
"I am sure."
"And why?"
"Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the
betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday."
"Oh, then we have three days yet," said Holmes with a yawn. "That is
very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into
just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the
present?"
"Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the
Count Von Kramm."
"Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress."
"Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety."
"Then, as to money?"
"You have carte blanche."
"Absolutely?"
"I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to
have that photograph."
"And for present expenses?"
The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and
laid it on the table.
"There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,"
he said.
Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed 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 the
photograph a cabinet?"
"It was."
"Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have
some good news for you. And good-night, Watson," he added, as the
wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be
good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o'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 had not yet
returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly
after eight o'clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however,
with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be. I was
already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was surrounded
by none of the grim and strange features which were associated with
the two crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the
case and the exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own.
Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had
on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and
his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study
his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which
he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I
to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had
ceased to enter into my head.
It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking
groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and
disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my

friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three
times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished
into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and
respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his