sherlock holmes | Page 9

window. I caught a glimpse of rushing gures, and a moment later
the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping
through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of the street, and in ten
minutes was rejoiced to nd my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the
scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we
had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road. “You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have been better.
It is all right.”
“You have the photograph?”
“I know where it is.”
“And how did you nd out?”
“She showed me, as I told you she would.”
“I am still in the dark.”
“I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter was perfectly
simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice. They
were all engaged for the evening.” “I guessed as much.”
“Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm of
my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and became
a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.” “That also I could fathom.”
“Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could she
do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I suspected. It lay
between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which. They laid me
on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to open the window, and you
had your chance.” “How did that help you?”
“It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on re, her
instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly
overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the
case of the Darlington substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also in the
Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried

ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
17
one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had
nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would
rush to secure it. The alarm of re was admirably done. The smoke and shouting
were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph
is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there
in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out. When I cried
out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the
room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from
the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the
coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer to
wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all.” “And now?” I asked.
“Our quest is practically nished. I shall call with the King to-morrow, and
with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to
wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes she may nd neither us
nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his
own hands.” “And when will you call?”
“At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a clear eld.
Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her
life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay.” We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was searching
his pockets for the key when someone passing said: “Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.”
There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting ap-
peared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by.
“I've heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street.
“Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”
III
I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast and coffee
in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the room. “You have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder
and looking eagerly into his face. “Not yet.”
“But you have hopes?”
“I have hopes.”
“Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.”
“We must have a cab.”
“No, my brougham is waiting.”
“Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off once more for
Briony Lodge.

ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
18
“Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes.
“Married! When?”
“Yesterday.”
“But to whom?”
“To an English lawyer named Norton.”
“But she could not love him.”
“I am in hopes that she does.”
“And why in hopes?”
“Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance.