Tajna ugoda potęg morskich. The Adventure of the Naval Treaty - ebook

Tajna ugoda potęg morskich

W lipcu, tuż po moim ślubie, zaszły trzy niezmiernie ciekawe wypadki; miałem znowu to szczęście, że mogłem wszędzie towarzyszyć Sherlokowi Holmesowi i przypatrywać się jego działalności. W moich zapiskach są one zanotowane pod tytułami: „Druga plama“, „Tajna ugoda potęg morskich“ i „Przygoda znużonego kapitana.“ Ponieważ atoli w pierwszy z wypadków są wplatane najznakomitsze rody w Królestwie, będzie możliwe więc ogłosić go dopiero po wielu latach. Ale żaden wypadek nie okazał może tak dosadnie niezmiernej wartości analitycznego sposobu badania, właściwego Holmesowi, i nie wzruszył tak głęboko interesowanych, jak właśnie ten wypadek. Jestem w posiadaniu dosłownego prawie sprawozdania z rozmowy, jaką miał z powodu tego wypadku z p. Dubuque, członkiem policyi paryskiej, i znanym specyalistą z Gdańska, Fryderykiem von Waldbaum, a w której wyjaśnił im cały stan rzeczy. Ale zdarzenie to z wyżej wspomnianych względów będzie można bezpiecznie wyjawić dopiero w przyszłem stuleciu. Przechodzę więc do drugiego z kolei wypadku, który swego czasu omal że się nie stał przyczyną zawikłań międzynarodowych i posiada stąd całkiem odmienny od innych charakter.

Do moich najlepszych kolegów szkolnych należał młody wówczas chłopak Percy Phelps; był wprawdzie w tym samym wieku, ale o dwie klasy wyżej odemnie. Był niezwykle uzdolniony i otrzymywał dlatego wszystkie nagrody wyznaczane przez szkołę. Wreszcie przy odejściu ze szkoły złożył tak świetnie ostatni egzamin, że otrzymał stypendyum, które mu umożliwiło ukończenia studyów na uniwersytecie w Cambridge.

Przypominam sobie, że był spokrewniony ze znakomitymi rodami; jego wuj lord Holdhurst był znanym posłem partyi konserwatywnej. Ale pokrewieństwo to nie przynosiło mu w szkole żadnego pożytku; przeciwnie dokuczaliśmy mu zawsze z tego powodu, a na placu zabaw dostał niejedną „gruszkę“ i staraliśmy się, ile razy tylko się nadarzyła sposobność, trafić go wielką piłką w kolano.

Kiedy wszedł w świat, wszystko się zmieniło. Słyszałem wkrótce, że z powodu swych niezwykłych zdolności i poparcia wpływowych osobistości otrzymał świetną posadę w urzędzie zagranicznym; wkrótce atoli o nim całkiem zapomniałem. Przypomniał mi się dopiero następującym listem, jaki pewnego dnia od niego otrzymałem:

Briarbrae, Woking.

Mój kochany Watsonie!

Zapewne przypominasz sobie jeszcze z czasów szkolnych Phelpsa, nazywanego „kijanką“, który był w piątej klasie, kiedy ty chodziłeś do trzeciej. Słyszałeś też pewnie, że za staraniem mego wuja otrzymałem znakomitą posadę w urzędzie zagranicznym. Wkrótce cieszyłem się zaufaniem moich przełożonych, gdy wtem straszny przypadek zniszczył za jednym zamachem cała moją przyszłość. Byłoby to bezcelowem, gdybym ci chciał w liście opisać dokładnie swoje nieszczęście; zresztą, jeżeli wysłuchasz moją prośbę, opowiem ci je sam w najdrobniejszych szczegółach. Przez dziewięć tygodni leżałem chory na zapalenie mózgu; przyszedłem już trochę do siebie, ale czuję się jeszcze bardzo osłabiony. Czy nie mógłbyś więc odwiedzić mnie wraz ze swym przyjacielem Holmesem? Bardzo chciałbym usłyszeć jego zdanie, choć władze bezpieczeństwa zapewniły mnie, że tu niema rady. Proszę cię, przyjedź z nim możliwie jak najprędzej; bo dla mnie każda minuta życia w takiej niepewności staje się wiecznością. Powiedz mu, że nie z powodu braku zaufania dopiero teraz go proszę o pomoc, lecz od chwili tego wypadku byłem prawie nieprzytomny. Teraz przyszedłem wprawdzie do przytomności, ale nie chcę nawet o tem myśleć, bo boję się recydywy. Nie czuje się jeszcze nawet na tyle na siłach, żebym sam mógł pisać, i muszę list ten dyktować. Spodziewam się, że przybędziesz do twego przyjaciela, do twego dawnego kolegi szkolnego Percy Phelpsa.

Te usilne prośby w liście miały w sobie coś tak wzruszającego i wzbudzającego litość, że postanowiłem niczego nie zaniechać, by spełnić jego życzenie. Ale znałem zbyt dobrze Holmesa i wiedziałem, że z chęcią największa ofiarowywał usługi swoim klientom. Żona moja również była zdania, że nie należy tu ani na chwilę zwlekać, lecz natychmiast całą sprawę przedstawić Holmesowi. Toteż w godzinę po śniadaniu byłem już w dawnem naszem mieszkaniu przy Baker-Street.

Sherlock Holmes siedział w szlafroku przy stoliku i zajęty był chemiczną analizą. Nad niebieskawym płomykiem bunsenowskiego palnika wrzała w wielkiej, pękatej probówce jakaś ciecz, której przedestylowane krople spływały do dwulitrowego naczynia. Gdy wszedłem do pokoju, przyjaciel mój ledwie się obejrzał; zrozumiałem, że robił jakieś ważne doświadczenie, więc usiadłem na fotelu i czekałem. Zanurzał rureczkę (pipetę) szklaną to w jedną to w drugą flaszkę, badając ich zawartość. Wreszcie powstał i stanął przedemną trzymając w jednej ręce oczyszczoną już ciecz w probówce, w drugiej zaś skrawek papieru lakmusowego.

– A teraz będziesz świadkiem bardzo krytycznej chwili, Watsonie – odezwał się wreszcie. – Jeżeli papierek ten zachowa swą niebieską barwę, to wszystko się dobrze skończy, jeżeli zaś poczerwienieje, to będzie to kosztować jedno życie ludzkie.

Potem zanurzył go w cieczy; papierek natychmiast przybrał brudną, ciemnoczerwoną barwę. – Spodziewałem się tego, – powiedział. – Zaraz będę ci służył, Watsonie. Weź sobie tymczasem tytuń z perskiego pantofla.

Usiadł przy biurku, napisał kilka depesz i kazał je nadać służącemu. Następnie usiadł w krześle naprzeciw mnie, założył nogę na nogę i oparł dłonie na kolanie.

– Zwykłe małe morderstwo – rzekł, – Ty prawdopodobnie przynosisz mi coś lepszego. Twoje przybycie Watsonie zawsze mi zapowiada niezwykłą zbrodnię. Cóż więc to takiego?

Zamiast odpowiedzi dałem mu list od Phelpsa, który przeczytał z wielką uwagą. – Nie wiele się z niego można domyśleć, jak mi się zdaje, – zauważył, oddając mi to pismo.

– Prawie nic.

– Uderzył mnie tu atoli charakter pisma.

– To nie jest jego pismo.

– Naturalnie. To pisała jakaś kobieta.

– Ależ to jest męska ręka – zawołałem.

– Nie! To jest pismo kobiety, a mianowicie kobiety o niezwykle silnym charakterze. Na samym początku naszych badań widzimy więc, że nasz klient pozostaje w bardzo blizkich stosunkach z jakąś niezwykłą osobą, nie wiemy jeszcze, czy w dobrem czy w złem znaczeniu. Zaczyna mnie ten wypadek bardzo zajmować. Jeżeli nie masz nic przeciwko temu, pojedziemy natychmiast do Woking i złożymy wizytę młodemu dyplomacie, znajdującemu się w tak przykrem położeniu, i damie, piszącej mu listy.

Zdołaliśmy jeszcze zdążyć do rannego pociągu, odchodzącego ze stacyi Waterloo; po upływie godziny byliśmy wśród borów i gajów Wokingu. Briarbrae była to nazwa domu, który w pobliżu dworca stał wśród szerokich pól. Oddaliśmy swoje bilety i wprowadzono nas do wykwintnie urządzonej poczekalni, gdzie nas wkrótce przywitał nadzwyczaj uprzejmie nieznany nam tęgi jakiś mężczyzna. Mógł liczyć 30–40 lat, mimo to policzki jego były tak świeżo rumiane a oczy tak wesołe, że podobny był więcej do opasłego, przebiegłego młodzieńca.

– Jakże się cieszę, że panowie raczyli przybyć – mówił, ściskając nam ręce, może aż ze zbytnią serdecznością. – Percy cały ranek pytał się o panów. Nieszczęśliwy chwyta się każdego źdźbła słomy. Pozdrawiam pana także w imieniu jego rodziców, dla których samo wspomnienie na ten wypadek jest niezmiernie przykre.

– Nie słyszeliśmy jeszcze bliższych szczegółów, – zauważył Holmes. – Ale pan nie należy do rodziny.

Nasz nowy znajomy zdziwiony popatrzył na Holmesa, rzucił wzrokiem po sobie i ze śmiechem odpowiedział:

– Pan spostrzegł zapewne litery J. H. na moim sygnecie. Chciałem już się zdumiewać nad pańska bystrością. Nazywam się Józef Harrison, a ponieważ Percy zamierza poślubić moją siostrę Annę, zostanę więc wkrótce także krewnym jego. Pozna pan zaraz moją siostrę, która pielęgnuje swego narzeczonego już od dwu miesięcy bezustannie dniami i nocami. Lecz chodźmy już do niego, bo wiem, z jaka niecierpliwością panów oczekuje.

Pokój, do którego zostaliśmy wprowadzeni, znajdował się na tem samem piętrze i służył częścią za sypialnię, częścią jako zwykły pokój. Bardzo pięknie urządzony i ubrany kwiatami i bukietami robił bardzo miłe wrażenie. Przy otwartem oknie, przez które płynęło do pokoju miłe powietrze letnie z balsamiczną wonią kwiatów z ogrodu, leżał na sofie młody człowiek, blady i wychudły. Przy nim siedziała młoda dama, która powstała na nasze wejście.

– Czy mam odejść, Percy? – zapytała go.

Percy chwycił jej rękę, by ja zatrzymać.

– Jak się masz, Watsonie? – zapytał mnie przyjaźnie. – Bardzo się zmieniłeś; nigdybym cię z tą brodą nie poznał. Ale sadzę, że i ty mnie tak prędko nie poznałbyś. Ten pan to zapewne twój sławny przyjaciel, Sherlock Holmes?

Przedstawiłem go, poczem usiedliśmy obaj. Młody, tęgi człowiek oddalił się, jego siostra zaś siadła obok chorego, który nie puszczał jej ręki. Była ona nadzwyczaj piękna; silnie zbudowana, ale średniego wzrostu, miała twarz o barwie prawie oliwkowej, wielkie, ciemne, włoskie oczy a włosy krucze, gęste i bujne. Obok jej pełnej życia postaci występowała tem wyraźniej blada i schorowana twarz Phelpsa.

– Ażeby panu jak najmniej zająć czasu, przystąpię natychmiast do rzeczy – rzekł, podniósłszy się nieco ze sofy. – Byłem szczęśliwym i zadowolonym ze siebie człowiekiem i miałem właśnie się ożenić, gdy nagle straszne nieszczęście zniszczyło wszystkie moje nadzieje na przyszłość.

Watson zapewne już panu powiedział, że miałem posadę w urzędzie spraw zagranicznych. Za poparciem mego wuja, lorda Holdhursta, osiągnąłem wkrótce bardzo wysokie, ale też bardzo odpowiedzialne stanowisko. Kiedy wuj mój został ministrem spraw zagranicznych, powierzał mi do załatwienia wiele ważnych zleceń, a ponieważ je zawsze pomyślnie załatwiłem, miał więc odtąd niezmierne zaufanie do mych zdolności i do mego sprytu.

Dziesięć tygodni temu – lub żeby zupełnie dokładnie powiedzieć, dnia 23. maja – wezwał mnie do swego prywatnego pokoju, pochwalił za dotychczasowa służbę, a zarazem dodał, że da mi dzisiaj nowy dowód swego zaufania.

– Oto, rzekł do mnie i wyjął z szufladki Swego biurka rulon szarego papieru, jest.......The Adventure of the Naval Treaty

The July which immediately succeeded my marriage was made memorable by three cases of interest, in which I had the privilege of being associated with Sherlock Holmes and of studying his methods. I find them recorded in my notes under the headings 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 with interest of such importance and implicates so many of the first families in the kingdom that for many years it will be impossible to make it public. No case, however, in which Holmes was engaged has ever illustrated the value of his analytical methods so clearly or has impressed those who were associated with him so deeply. I still retain an almost verbatim report of the interview in which he demonstrated the true facts of the case to Monsieur Dubugue of the Paris police, and Fritz von Waldbaum, the well-known specialist of Dantzig, both of whom had wasted their energies 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 on my list, which promised also at one time to be of national importance, and was marked by several incidents which give it a quite unique character.

During my school-days I had been intimately associated with a lad named Percy Phelps, who was of much the same age as myself, though he was two classes ahead of me. He was a very brilliant boy, and carried away every prize which the school had to offer, finished his exploits by winning a scholarship which sent him on to continue his triumphant career at Cambridge. He was, I remember, extremely well connected, and even when we were all little boys together we knew that his mother's brother was Lord Holdhurst, the great conservative politician. This gaudy relationship did him little good at school. On the contrary, it seemed rather a piquant thing to us to chevy him about the playground and hit him over the shins with a wicket. But it was another thing when he came out into the world. I heard vaguely that his abilities and the influences 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 his existence:

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 may have heard that through my uncle's influence I obtained a good appointment at the Foreign Office, and that I was in a situation of trust and honour until a horrible misfortune came suddenly to blast my career.

There is no use writing of the details of that dreadful event. In the event of your acceding to my request it is probable that I shall have to narrate them to you. I have only just recovered from nine weeks of brain-fever, and am still exceedingly weak. Do you think that you could bring your friend Mr. Holmes down to see me? I should like to have his opinion of the case, though the authorities assure me that nothing more can be done. Do try to bring him down, and as soon as possible. Every minute seems an hour while I live in this state of horrible suspense. Assure him that if I have not asked his advice sooner it was not because I did not appreciate his talents, but because I have been off my head ever since the blow fell. Now I am clear again, though I dare not think of it too much for fear of a relapse. I am still so weak that I have to write, as you see, by dictating. Do try to bring him.

Your old school-fellow,

PERCY PHELPS.

There was something that touched me as I read this letter, something pitiable in the reiterated appeals to bring Holmes. So moved was I that even had it been a difficult matter 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 wife agreed with me that not a moment should be lost in laying the matter before him, and so within an hour of breakfast-time I found myself back once more in the old rooms in Baker Street.

Holmes was seated at his side-table clad in his dressing-gown, and working hard over a chemical investigation. A large curved retort was boiling furiously in the bluish flame of a Bunsen burner, and the distilled drops were condensing into a two-litre measure. My friend hardly glanced up as I entered, and I, seeing that his investigation must be of importance, seated myself in an arm-chair and waited. He dipped into this bottle or that, drawing out a few drops of each with his glass pipette, and finally brought a test-tube containing a solution over to the table. In his right hand he held a slip of litmus-paper.

˝You come at a crisis, Watson,˝ said he. ˝If this paper remains blue, all is well. If it turns red, it means a man's life.˝ He dipped it into the test-tube and it flushed at once into a dull, dirty crimson. ˝Hum! I thought as much!˝ he cried. ˝I will be at your service in an instant, Watson. You will find tobacco in the Persian slipper.˝ He turned to his desk and scribbled off several telegrams, which were handed over to the page-boy. Then he threw himself down into the chair opposite, and drew up his knees until his fingers clasped round his long, thin shins.

˝A very commonplace little murder,˝ said he. ˝You've 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 of interest.˝

˝But the writing is not his own.˝

˝Precisely. It is a woman's.˝

˝A man's surely,˝ I cried.

˝No, a woman's, and a woman of rare character. You see, at the commencement of an investigation it is something to know that your client is in close contact with some one who, for good or evil, has an exceptional nature. My interest is already awakened in the case. If you are ready we will start at once for Woking, and see this diplomatist 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 under an 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 a few minutes' walk of the station. On sending in our cards we were shown into an elegantly appointed drawing-room, where we were joined in a few minutes by a rather stout man who received us with much hospitality. His age may have been nearer forty than thirty, but his cheeks were so ruddy and his eyes so merry that he still conveyed the impression of a plump and mischievous boy.

˝I am so glad that you have come,˝ said he, shaking our hands with effusion. ˝Percy has been inquiring for you all morning. Ah, poor old chap, he clings to any straw! His father and his mother asked me to see you, for the mere mention of the subject is very painful to them.˝

˝We have had no details yet,˝ observed Holmes. ˝I perceive that you are not yourself 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 I thought you had done something clever. Joseph Harrison is my name, and as Percy is to marry my sister Annie I shall at least be a relation by marriage. You will find my sister in his room, for she has nursed him hand-and-foot this two months back. Perhaps we'd better go in at once, for I know how impatient he is.˝

The chamber in which we were shown was on the same floor as the drawing-room. It was furnished partly as a sitting and partly as a bedroom, with flowers 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 the garden and the balmy summer air. A woman was sitting beside him, who rose as we entered.

˝Shall I leave, Percy?˝ she asked.

He clutched her hand to detain her. ˝How are you, Watson?˝ said he, cordially. ˝I should never have known you under that moustache, and I dare say you would not be prepared to swear to me. This I presume is your celebrated friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?˝

I introduced him in a few words, and we both sat down. The stout young man had left us, but his sister still remained with her hand in that of the invalid. She was a striking-looking woman, a little short and thick for symmetry, but with a beautiful olive complexion, large, dark, Italian eyes, and a wealth of deep black hair. Her rich tints made the white face of her companion the more worn and haggard by the contrast.

˝I won't waste your time,˝ said he, raising himself upon the sofa. ˝I'll plunge into the 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 all my prospects in life.

˝I was, as Watson may have told you, in the Foreign Office, and through the influences of my uncle, Lord Holdhurst, I rose rapidly to a responsible position. When my uncle became foreign minister in this administration he gave me several missions of trust, and as I always brought them to a successful conclusion, he came at last to have the utmost confidence in my ability and tact.

˝Nearly ten weeks ago—to be more accurate, on the 23d of May—he called me into his private room, and, after complimenting me on the good work which I had done, he 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 that secret treaty between England and Italy of which, I regret to say, some rumours have already got into the public press. It is of enormous importance that nothing further should leak out. The French or the Russian embassy would pay an immense sum to learn the contents of these papers. They should not leave my bureau were it not that it is absolutely 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 may remain behind when the others go, so that you may copy it at your leisure without fear of being overlooked. When you have finished, relock both the original and the draft in the desk, and hand them over to me 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 uncle's 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 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 I left him there and went out to dine. When I returned he was gone. I was anxious to hurry my work, for I knew that Joseph—the Mr. Harrison whom you saw just now—was in town, and that he would travel down to Woking by the eleven-o'clock train, and I wanted if possible to catch it.

˝When I came to examine the treaty I saw at once that it was of such importance that my uncle had been guilty of no exaggeration in what he had said. Without going into details, I may say that it defined the position of Great Britain towards the Triple Alliance, and fore-shadowed the policy which this country would pursue in the event of the French fleet gaining a complete ascendancy over that of Italy in the Mediterranean. The questions treated in it were purely naval. At the end were the signatures of the high dignitaries who had signed it. I glanced my eyes over it, and then settled down to my task of copying.

˝It was a long document, written in the French language, and containing twenty-six separate articles. I copied as quickly as I could, but at nine o'clock I had only done nine articles, and it seemed hopeless for me to attempt to catch my train. I was feeling drowsy and stupid, partly from my dinner and also from the effects of a long day's work. A cup of coffee would clear my brain. A commissionnaire remains all night in a little lodge at the foot of the stairs, and is in the habit of making coffee at his spirit-lamp for any of the officials who may be working over time. 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 commissionnaire's 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 and walked up and down the room to stretch my legs. My coffee had not yet come, and I wondered what the cause of the delay could be. Opening the door, I started down the corridor to find out. There was a straight passage, dimly lighted, which led from the room in which I had been working, and was the only exit from it. It ended in a curving staircase, with the commissionnaire's lodge in the passage at the bottom. Half way down this staircase is a small landing, with another passage running into it at right angles. This second 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 the stairs and into the hall, where I found the commissionnaire fast asleep in his box, with the kettle boiling furiously upon the spirit-lamp. I took off the kettle and blew out the lamp, for the water was spurting over the floor. Then I put out my hand and was about to shake the man, who was still sleeping soundly, 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 at the 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 cried. 'What bell is it?'

˝'It's the bell of the room you were working in.'

˝A cold hand seemed to close round my heart. Some one, then, was in that room where my precious treaty lay upon the table. I ran frantically up the stair and along the passage. There was no one in the corridors, Mr. Holmes. There was no one in the room. All was exactly as I left it, save only that the papers which had been committed to my care had been taken from the desk on which they lay. The copy was there, and the original was gone.˝

Holmes sat up in his chair and rubbed his hands. I could see that the problem was entirely to his heart. ˝Pray, what did you do then?˝ he murmured.

˝I recognised in an instant that the thief must have come up the stairs from the side 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 or the corridor. There is no cover at all.˝

˝Thank you. Pray proceed.˝

˝The commissionnaire, seeing by my pale face that something was to be feared, had followed me upstairs. Now we both rushed along the corridor and down the steep steps which led to Charles Street. The door at the bottom was closed, but unlocked. We flung it open and rushed out. I can distinctly remember that as we did so there came three chimes from a neighbouring clock. It was 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 in Charles Street, but a great traffic was going on, as usual, in Whitehall, at the extremity. We rushed along the pavement, bare-headed as we were, and at the far corner we found a policeman standing.

˝'A robbery has been committed,' I gasped. 'A document of immense value has been stolen from the Foreign Office. Has any one passed this way?'

˝'I have been standing here for a quarter of an hour, sir,' said he; 'only one person has passed during that time—a woman, tall and elderly, with a Paisley shawl.'

˝'Ah, that is only my wife,' cried the commissionnaire; 'has no one else passed?'

˝'No one.'

˝'Then it must be the other way that the thief took,' cried the fellow, tugging at my sleeve.

˝'But I was not satisfied, and the attempts which he made to draw me away increased my suspicions.

˝'Which way did the woman go?' I cried.

˝'I don't 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.'

˝'You're only wasting your time, sir, and every minute now is of importance,' cried the commissionnaire; 'take my word for it that my old woman has nothing to do with it, and come down to the other end of the street. Well, if you won't, I will.' And with 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.

˝'16 Ivy Lane, Brixton,' he answered. 'But don't let yourself be drawn away upon a false scent, Mr. Phelps. Come to the other end of the street and let us see if we can hear of anything.'

˝Nothing was to be lost by following his advice. With the policeman we both hurried 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 no lounger who could tell us who had passed.

˝Then we returned to the office, and searched the stairs and the passage without result. The corridor which led to the room was laid down with a kind of creamy linoleum which shows an impression very easily. We examined it very carefully, but found no outline of any footmark.˝

˝Had it been raining all evening?˝

˝Since about seven.˝

˝How is it, then, that the woman who came into the room about nine left no traces with her muddy boots?˝

˝I am glad you raised the point. It occurred to me at the time. The charwomen are in the habit of taking off their boots at the commissionnaire's office, and putting on list slippers.˝

˝That is very clear. There were no marks, then, though the night was a wet one? The chain...........