sherlock holmes | Page 3

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 pe-
culiar 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 win-
dow. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fty 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
ame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a sin-
gle aming beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were
trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opu-
lence 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

ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
7
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 un-
derstand 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 inuence 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 dryly.
“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 gure
of the man who had been