Charles Augustus Milverton

Arthur Conan Doyle

It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the facts public; but now the principal person concerned is beyond the reach of human law, and with due suppression the story may be told in such fashion as to injure no one. It records an absolutely unique experience in the career both of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and of myself. The reader will excuse me if I conceal the date or any other fact by which he might trace the actual occurrence.

We had been out for one of our evening rambles, Holmes and I, and had returned about six o'clock on a cold, frosty winter's evening. As Holmes turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on the floor. I picked it up and read:—

Charles Augustus Milverton,

Appledore Towers,

Hampstead.

Agent.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“The worst man in London,” Holmes answered, as he sat down and stretched his legs before the fire. “Is anything on the back of the card?”

I turned it over.

“Will call at 6.30—C.A.M.,” I read.

“Hum! He's about due. Do you feel a creeping, shrinking sensation, Watson, when you stand before the serpents in the Zoo and see the slithery, gliding, venomous creatures, with their deadly eyes and wicked, flattened faces? Well, that's how Milverton impresses me. I've had to do with fifty murderers in my career, but the worst of them never gave me the repulsion which I have for this fellow. And yet I can't get out of doing business with him—indeed, he is here at my invitation.”

“But who is he?”

“I'll tell you, Watson. He is the king of all the blackmailers. Heaven help the man, and still more the woman, whose secret and reputation come into the power of Milverton. With a smiling face and a heart of marble he will squeeze and squeeze until he has drained them dry. The fellow is a genius in his way, and would have made his mark in some more savoury trade. His method is as follows: He allows it to be known that he is prepared to pay very high sums for letters which compromise people of wealth or position. He receives these wares not only from treacherous valets or maids, but frequently from genteel ruffians who have gained the confidence and affection of trusting women. He deals with no niggard hand. I happen to know that he paid seven hundred pounds to a footman for a note two lines in length, and that the ruin of a noble family was the result. Everything which is in the market goes to Milverton, and there are hundreds in this great city who turn white at his name. No one knows where his grip may fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning to work from hand to mouth. He will hold a card back for years in order to play it at the moment when the stake is best worth winning. I have said that he is the worst man in London, and I would ask you how could one compare the ruffian who in hot blood bludgeons his mate with this man, who methodically and at his leisure tortures the soul and wrings the nerves in order to add to his already swollen money-bags?”

I had seldom heard my friend speak with such intensity of feeling.

“But surely,” said I, “the fellow must be within the grasp of the law?”

“Technically, no doubt, but practically not. What would it profit a woman, for example, to get him a few months' imprisonment if her own ruin must immediately follow? His victims dare not hit back. If ever he blackmailed an innocent person, then, indeed, we should have him; but he is as cunning as the Evil One. No, no; we must find other ways to fight him.”

“And why is he here?”

“Because an illustrious client has placed her piteous case in my hands. It is the Lady Eva Brackwell, the most beautiful debutante of last season. She is to be married in a fortnight to the Earl of Dovercourt. This fiend has several imprudent letters—imprudent, Watson, nothing worse—which were written to an impecunious young squire in the country. They would suffice to break off the match. Milverton will send the letters to the Earl unless a large sum of money is paid him. I have been commissioned to meet him, and—to make the best terms I can.”

At that instant there was a clatter and a rattle in the street below. Looking down I saw a stately carriage and pair, the brilliant lamps gleaming on the glossy haunches of the noble chestnuts. A footman opened the door, and a small, stout man in a shaggy astrachan overcoat descended. A minute later he was in the room.

Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large, intellectual head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad, golden-rimmed glasses. There was something of Mr. Pickwick's benevolence in his appearance, marred only by the insincerity of the fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those restless and penetrating eyes. His voice was as smooth and suave as his countenance, as he advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring his regret for having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton's smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat.

“This gentleman?” said he, with a wave in my direction. “Is it discreet? Is it right?”

“Dr. Watson is my friend and partner.”

“Very good, Mr. Holmes. It is only in your client's interests that I protested. The matter is so very delicate—”

“Dr. Watson has already heard of it.”

“Then we can proceed to business. You say that you are acting for Lady Eva. Has she empowered you to accept my terms?”

“What are your terms?”

“Seven thousand pounds.”

“And the alternative?”

“My dear sir, it is painful for me to discuss it; but if the money is not paid on the 14th there certainly will be no marriage on the 18th.” His insufferable smile was more complacent than ever.

Holmes thought for a little.

“You appear to me,” he said, at last, “to be taking matters too much for granted. I am, of course, familiar with the contents of these letters. My client will certainly do what I may advise. I shall counsel her to tell her future husband the whole story and to trust to his generosity.”

Milverton chuckled.

“You evidently do not know the Earl,” said he.

From the baffled look upon Holmes's face I could see clearly that he did.

“What harm is there in the letters?” he asked.

“They are sprightly—very sprightly,” Milverton answered. “The lady was a charming correspondent. But I can assure you that the Earl of Dovercourt would fail to appreciate them. However, since you think otherwise, we will let it rest at that. It is purely a matter of business. If you think that it is in the best interests of your client that these letters should be placed in the hands of the Earl, then you would indeed be foolish to pay so large a sum of money to regain them.” He rose and seized his astrachan coat.

Holmes was grey with anger and mortification.

“Wait a little,” he said. “You go too fast. We would certainly make every effort to avoid scandal in so delicate a matter.”

Milverton relapsed into his chair.

“I was sure that you would see it in that light,” he purred.

“At the same time,” Holmes continued, “Lady Eva is not a wealthy woman. I assure you that two thousand pounds would be a drain upon her resources, and that the sum you name is utterly beyond her power. I beg, therefore, that you will moderate your demands, and that you will return the letters at the price I indicate, which is, I assure you, the highest that you can get.”

Milverton's smile broadened and his eyes twinkled humorously.

“I am aware that what you say is true about the lady's resources,” said he. “At the same time, you must admit that the occasion of a lady's marriage is a very suitable time for her friends and relatives to make some little effort upon her behalf. They may hesitate as to an acceptable wedding present. Let me assure them that this little bundle of letters would give more joy than all the candelabra and butter-dishes in London.”

“It is impossible,” said Holmes.

“Dear me, dear me, how unfortunate!” cried Milverton, taking out a bulky pocket-book. “I cannot help thinking that ladies are ill-advised in not making an effort. Look at this!” He held up a little note with a coat-of-arms upon the envelope. “That belongs to—well, perhaps it is hardly fair to tell the name until to-morrow morning. But at that time it will be in the hands of the lady's husband. And all because she will not find a beggarly sum which she could get by turning her diamonds into paste. It is such a pity. Now, you remember the sudden end of the engagement between the Honourable Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two days before the wedding there was a paragraph in the Morning Post to say that it was all off. And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum of twelve hundred pounds would have settled the whole question. Is it not pitiful? And here I find you, a man of sense, boggling about terms when your client's future and honour are at stake. You surprise me, Mr. Holmes.”

“What I say is true,” Holmes answered. “The money cannot be found. Surely it is better for you to take the substantial sum which I offer than to ruin this woman's career, which can profit you in no way?”

“There you make a mistake, Mr. Holmes. An exposure would profit me indirectly to a considerable extent. I have eight or ten similar cases maturing. If it was circulated among them that I had made a severe example of the Lady Eva I should find all of them much more open to reason. You see my point?”

Holmes sprang from his chair.

“Get behind him, Watson! Don't let him out! Now, sir, let us see the contents of that note-book.”

Milverton had glided as quick as a rat to the side of the room, and stood with his back against the wall.

“Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes,” he said, turning the front of his coat and exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from the inside pocket. “I have been expecting you to do something original. This has been done so often, and what good has ever come from it? I assure you that I am armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared to use my weapons, knowing that the law will support me. Besides, your supposition that I would bring the letters here in a note-book is entirely mistaken. I would do nothing so foolish. And now, gentlemen, I have one or two little interviews this evening, and it is a long drive to Hampstead.” He stepped forward, took up his coat, laid his hand on his revolver, and turned to the door. I picked up a chair, but Holmes shook his head and I laid it down again. With bow, a smile, and a twinkle Milverton was out of the room, and a few moments after we heard the slam of the carriage door and the rattle of the wheels as he drove away.

Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets, his chin sunk upon his breast, his eyes fixed upon the glowing embers. For half an hour he was silent and still. Then, with the gesture of a man who has taken his decision, he sprang to his feet and passed into his bedroom. A little later a rakish young workman with a goatee beard and a swagger lit his clay pipe at the lamp before descending into the street. “I'll be back some time, Watson,” said he, and vanished into the night. I understood that he had opened his campaign against Charles Augustus Milverton; but I little dreamed the strange shape which that campaign was destined to take.

For some days Holmes came and went at all hours in this attire, but beyond a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead, and that it was not wasted, I knew nothing of what he was doing. At last, however, on a wild, tempestuous evening, when the wind screamed and rattled against the windows, he returned from his last expedition, and having removed his disguise he sat before the fire and laughed heartily in his silent inward fashion.

“You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?”

“No, indeed!”

“You'll be interested to hear that I am engaged.”

“My dear fellow! I congrat—”

“To Milverton's housemaid.”

“Good heavens, Holmes!”

“I wanted information, Watson.”

“Surely you have gone too far?”

“It was a most necessary step. I am a plumber with a rising business, Escott by name. I have walked out with her each evening, and I have talked with her. Good heavens, those talks! However, I have got all I wanted. I know Milverton's house as I know the palm of my hand.”

“But the girl, Holmes?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“You can't help it, my dear Watson. You must play your cards as best you can when such a stake is on the table. However, I rejoice to say that I have a hated rival who will certainly cut me out the instant that my back is turned. What a splendid night it is!”

“You like this weather?”

“It suits my purpose. Watson, I mean to burgle Milverton's house to-night.”

I had a catching of the breath, and my skin went cold at the words, which were slowly uttered in a tone of concentrated resolution. As a flash of lightning in the night shows up in an instant every detail of a wide landscape, so at one glance I seemed to see every possible result of such an action—the detection, the capture, the honoured career ending in irreparable failure and disgrace, my friend himself lying at the mercy of the odious Milverton.

“For Heaven's sake, Holmes, think what you are doing,” I cried.

“My dear fellow, I have given it every consideration. I am never precipitate in my actions, nor would I adopt so energetic and indeed so dangerous a course if any other were possible. Let us look at the matter clearly and fairly. I suppose that you will admit that the action is morally justifiable, though technically criminal. To burgle his house is no more than to forcibly take his pocket-book—an action in which you were prepared to aid me.”

I turned it over in my mind.

“Yes,” I said; “it is morally justifiable so long as our object is to take no articles save those which are used for an illegal purpose.”

“Exactly. Since it is morally justifiable I have only to consider the question of personal risk. Surely a gentleman should not lay much stress upon this when a lady is in most desperate need of his help?”

“You will be in such a false position.”

“Well, that is part of the risk. There is no other possible way of regaining these letters. The unfortunate lady has not the money, and there are none of her people in whom she could confide. To-morrow is the last day of grace, and unless we can get the letters to-night this villain will be as good as his word and will bring about her ruin. I must, therefore, abandon my client to her fate or I must play this last card. Between ourselves, Watson, it's a sporting duel between this fellow Milverton and me. He had, as you saw, the best of the first exchanges; but my self-respect and my reputation are concerned to fight it to a finish.”

“Well, I don't like it; but I suppose it must be,” said I. “When do we start?”

“You are not coming.”

“Then you are not going,” said I. “I give you my word of honour—and I never broke it in my life—that I will take a cab straight to the police-station and give you away unless you let me share this adventure with you.”

“You can't help me.”

“How do you know that? You can't tell what may happen. Anyway, my resolution is taken. Other people beside you have self-respect and even reputations.”

Holmes had looked annoyed, but his brow cleared, and he clapped me on the shoulder.

“Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared the same room for some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell. You know, Watson, I don't mind confessing to you that I have always had an idea that I would have made a highly efficient criminal. This is the chance of my lifetime in that direction. See here!” He took a neat little leather case out of a drawer, and opening it he exhibited a number of shining instruments. “This is a first-class, up-to-date burgling kit, with nickel-plated jemmy, diamond-tipped glass-cutter, adaptable keys, and every modern improvement which the march of civilization demands. Here, too, is my dark lantern. Everything is in order. Have you a pair of silent shoes?”

“I have rubber-soled tennis shoes.”

“Excellent. And a mask?”

“I can make a couple out of black silk.”

“I can see that you have a strong natural turn for this sort of thing. Very good; do you make the masks. We shall have some cold supper before we start. It is now nine-thirty. At eleven we shall drive as far as Church Row. It is a quarter of an hour's walk from there to Appledore Towers. We shall be at work before midnight. Milverton is a heavy sleeper and retires punctually at ten-thirty. With any luck we should be back here by two, with the Lady Eva's letters in my pocket.”

Holmes and I put on our dress-clothes, so that we might appear to be two theatre-goers homeward bound. In Oxford Street we picked up a hansom and drove to an address in Hampstead. Here we paid off our cab, and with our great-coats buttoned up, for it was bitterly cold and the wind seemed to blow through us, we walked along the edge of the Heath.

“It's a business that needs delicate treatment,” said Holmes. “These documents are contained in a safe in the fellow's study, and the study is the ante-room of his bed-chamber. On the other hand, like all these stout, little men who do themselves well, he is a plethoric sleeper. Agatha—that's my fiancee—says it is a joke in the servants' hall that it's impossible to wake the master. He has a secretary who is devoted to his interests and never budges from the study all day. That's why we are going at night. Then he has a beast of a dog which roams the garden. I met Agatha late the last two evenings, and she locks the brute up so as to give me a clear run. This is the house, this big one in its own grounds. Through the gate—now to the right among the laurels. We might put on our masks here, I think. You see, there is not a glimmer of light in any of the windows, and everything is working splendidly.”

With our black silk face-coverings, which turned us into two of the most truculent figures in London, we stole up to the silent, gloomy house. A sort of tiled veranda extended along one side of it, lined by several windows and two doors.

“That's his bedroom,” Holmes whispered. “This door opens straight into the study. It would suit us best, but it is bolted as well as locked, and we should make too much noise getting in. Come round here. There's a greenhouse which opens into the drawing-room.”

The place was locked, but Holmes removed a circle of glass and turned the key from the inside. An instant afterwards he had closed the door behind us, and we had become felons in the eyes of the law. The thick, warm air of the conservatory and the rich, choking fragrance of exotic plants took us by the throat. He seized my hand in the darkness and led me swiftly past banks of shrubs which brushed against our faces. Holmes had remarkable powers, carefully cultivated, of seeing in the dark. Still holding my hand in one of his he opened a door, and I was vaguely conscious that we had entered a large room in which a cigar had been smoked not long before. He felt his way among the furniture, opened another door, and closed it behind us. Putting out my hand I felt several coats hanging from the wall, and I understood that I was in a passage. We passed along it, and Holmes very gently opened a door upon the right-hand side. Something rushed out at us and my heart sprang into my mouth, but I could have laughed when I realized that it was the cat. A fire was burning in this new room, and again the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. Holmes entered on tiptoe, waited for me to follow, and then very gently closed the door. We were in Milverton's study, and a portiere at the farther side showed the entrance to his bedroom.

It was a good fire, and the room was illuminated by it. Near the door I saw the gleam of an electric switch, but it was unnecessary, even if it had been safe, to turn it on. At one side of the fireplace was a heavy curtain, which covered the bay window we had seen from outside. On the other side was the door which communicated with the veranda. A desk stood in the centre, with a turning chair of shining red leather. Opposite was a large bookcase, with a marble bust of Athene on the top. In the corner between the bookcase and the wall there stood a tall green safe, the firelight flashing back from the polished brass knobs upon its face. Holmes stole across and looked at it. Then he crept to the door of the bedroom, and stood with slanting head listening intently. No sound came from within. Meanwhile it had struck me that it would be wise to secure our retreat through the outer door, so I examined it. To my amazement it was neither locked nor bolted! I touched Holmes on the arm, and he turned his masked face in that direction. I saw him start, and he was evidently as surprised as I.

“I don't like it,” he whispered, putting his lips to my very ear. “I can't quite make it out. Anyhow, we have no time to lose.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Yes; stand by the door. If you hear anyone come, bolt it on the inside, and we can get away as we came. If they come the other way, we can get through the door if our job is done, or hide behind these window curtains if it is not. Do you understand?”

I nodded and stood by the door. My first feeling of fear had passed away, and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I had ever enjoyed when we were the defenders of the law instead of its defiers. The high object of our mission, the consciousness that it was unselfish and chivalrous, the villainous character of our opponent, all added to the sporting interest of the adventure. Far from feeling guilty, I rejoiced and exulted in our dangers. With a glow of admiration I watched Holmes unrolling his case of instruments and choosing his tool with the calm, scientific accuracy of a surgeon who performs a delicate operation. I knew that the opening of safes was a particular hobby with him, and I understood the joy which it gave him to be confronted with this green and gold monster, the dragon which held in its maw the reputations of many fair ladies. Turning up the cuffs of his dress-coat—he had placed his overcoat on a chair—Holmes laid out two drills, a jemmy, and several skeleton keys. I stood at the centre door with my eyes glancing at each of the others, ready for any emergency; though, indeed, my plans were somewhat vague as to what I should do if we were interrupted. For half an hour Holmes worked with concentrated energy, laying down one tool, picking up another, handling each with the strength and delicacy of the trained mechanic. Finally I heard a click, the broad green door swung open, and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paper packets, each tied, sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out, but it was hard to read by the flickering fire, and he drew out his little dark lantern, for it was too dangerous, with Milverton in the next room, to switch on the electric light. Suddenly I saw him halt, listen intently, and then in an instant he had swung the door of the safe to, picked up his coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, and darted behind the window curtain, motioning me to do the same.

It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what had alarmed his quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within the house. A door slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dull murmur broke itself into the measured thud of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. They were in the passage outside the room. They paused at the door. The door opened. There was a sharp snick as the electric light was turned on. The door closed once more, and the pungent reek of a strong cigar was borne to our nostrils. Then the footsteps continued backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, within a few yards of us. Finally, there was a creak from a chair, and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clicked in a lock and I heard the rustle of papers.

So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted the division of the curtains in front of me and peeped through. From the pressure of Holmes's shoulder against mine I knew that he was sharing my observations. Right in front of us, and almost within our reach, was the broad, rounded back of Milverton. It was evident that we had entirely miscalculated his movements, that he had never been to his bedroom, but that he had been sitting up in some smoking or billiard room in the farther wing of the house, the windows of which we had not seen. His broad, grizzled head, with its shining patch of baldness, was in the immediate foreground of our vision. He was leaning far back in the red leather chair, his legs outstretched, a long black cigar projecting at an angle from his mouth. He wore a semi-military smoking jacket, claret-coloured, with a black velvet collar. In his hand he held a long legal document, which he was reading in an indolent fashion, blowing rings of tobacco smoke from his lips as he did so. There was no promise of a speedy departure in his composed bearing and his comfortable attitude.

I felt Holmes's hand steal into mine and give me a reassuring shake, as if to say that the situation was within his powers and that he was easy in his mind. I was not sure whether he had seen what was only too obvious from my position, that the door of the safe was imperfectly closed, and that Milverton might at any moment observe it. In my own mind I had determined that if I were sure, from the rigidity of his gaze, that it had caught his eye, I would at once spring out, throw my great-coat over his head, pinion him, and leave the rest to Holmes. But Milverton never looked up. He was languidly interested by the papers in his hand, and page after page was turned as he followed the argument of the lawyer. At least, I thought, when he has finished the document and the cigar he will go to his room; but before he had reached the end of either there came a remarkable development which turned our thoughts into quite another channel.

Several times I had observed that Milverton looked at his watch, and once he had risen and sat down again, with a gesture of impatience. The idea, however, that he might have an appointment at so strange an hour never occurred to me until a faint sound reached my ears from the veranda outside. Milverton dropped his papers and sat rigid in his chair. The sound was repeated, and then there came a gentle tap at the door. Milverton rose and opened it.

“Well,” said he, curtly, “you are nearly half an hour late.”

So this was the explanation of the unlocked door and of the nocturnal vigil of Milverton. There was the gentle rustle of a woman's dress. I had closed the slit between the curtains as Milverton's face had turned in our direction, but now I ventured very carefully to open it once more. He had resumed his seat, the cigar still projecting at an insolent angle from the corner of his mouth. In front of him, in the full glare of the electric light, there stood a tall, slim, dark woman, a veil over her face, a mantle drawn round her chin. Her breath came quick and fast, and every inch of the lithe figure was quivering with strong emotion.

“Well,” said Milverton, “you've made me lose a good night's rest, my dear. I hope you'll prove worth it. You couldn't come any other time—eh?”

The woman shook her head.

“Well, if you couldn't you couldn't. If the Countess is a hard mistress you have your chance to get level with her now. Bless the girl, what are you shivering about? That's right! Pull yourself together! Now, let us get down to business.” He took a note from the drawer of his desk. “You say that you have five letters which compromise the Countess d'Albert. You want to sell them. I want to buy them. So far so good. It only remains to fix a price. I should want to inspect the letters, of course. If they are really good specimens—Great heavens, is it you?”

The woman without a word had raised her veil and dropped the mantle from her chin. It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut face which confronted Milverton, a face with a curved nose, strong, dark eyebrows shading hard, glittering eyes, and a straight, thin-lipped mouth set in a dangerous smile.

“It is I,” she said; “the woman whose life you have ruined.”

Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. “You were so very obstinate,” said he. “Why did you drive me to such extremities? I assure you I wouldn't hurt a fly of my own accord, but every man has his business, and what was I to do? I put the price well within your means. You would not pay.”

“So you sent the letters to my husband, and he—the noblest gentleman that ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthy to lace—he broke his gallant heart and died. You remember that last night when I came through that door I begged and prayed you for mercy, and you laughed in my face as you are trying to laugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your lips from twitching? Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it was that night which taught me how I could meet you face to face, and alone. Well, Charles Milverton, what have you to say?”

“Don't imagine that you can bully me,” said he, rising to his feet. “I have only to raise my voice, and I could call my servants and have you arrested. But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leave the room at once as you came, and I will say no more.”

The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and the same deadly smile on her thin lips.

“You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take that, you hound, and that!—and that!—and that!”

She had drawn a little, gleaming revolver, and emptied barrel after barrel into Milverton's body, the muzzle within two feet of his shirt front. He shrank away and then fell forward upon the table, coughing furiously and clawing among the papers. Then he staggered to his feet, received another shot, and rolled upon the floor. “You've done me,” he cried, and lay still. The woman looked at him intently and ground her heel into his upturned face. She looked again, but there was no sound or movement. I heard a sharp rustle, the night air blew into the heated room, and the avenger was gone.

No interference upon our part could have saved the man from his fate; but as the woman poured bullet after bullet into Milverton's shrinking body I was about to spring out, when I felt Holmes's cold, strong grasp upon my wrist. I understood the whole argument of that firm, restraining grip—that it was no affair of ours; that justice had overtaken a villain; that we had our own duties and our own objects which were not to be lost sight of. But hardly had the woman rushed from the room when Holmes, with swift, silent steps, was over at the other door. He turned the key in the lock. At the same instant we heard voices in the house and the sound of hurrying feet. The revolver shots had roused the household. With perfect coolness Holmes slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with bundles of letters, and poured them all into the fire. Again and again he did it, until the safe was empty. Someone turned the handle and beat upon the outside of the door. Holmes looked swiftly round. The letter which had been the messenger of death for Milverton lay, all mottled with his blood, upon the table. Holmes tossed it in among the blazing papers. Then he drew the key from the outer door, passed through after me, and locked it on the outside. “This way, Watson,” said he; “we can scale the garden wall in this direction.”

I could not have believed that an alarm could have spread so swiftly. Looking back, the huge house was one blaze of light. The front door was open, and figures were rushing down the drive. The whole garden was alive with people, and one fellow raised a view-halloa as we emerged from the veranda and followed hard at our heels. Holmes seemed to know the ground perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly among a plantation of small trees, I close at his heels, and our foremost pursuer panting behind us. It was a six-foot wall which barred our path, but he sprang to the top and over. As I did the same I felt the hand of the man behind me grab at my ankle; but I kicked myself free and scrambled over a glass-strewn coping. I fell upon my face among some bushes; but Holmes had me on my feet in an instant, and together we dashed away across the huge expanse of Hampstead Heath. We had run two miles, I suppose, before Holmes at last halted and listened intently. All was absolute silence behind us. We had shaken off our pursuers and were safe.

We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the day after the remarkable experience which I have recorded when Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our modest sitting-room.

“Good morning, Mr. Holmes,” said he; “good morning. May I ask if you are very busy just now?”

“Not too busy to listen to you.”

“I thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on hand, you might care to assist us in a most remarkable case which occurred only last night at Hampstead.”

“Dear me!” said Holmes. “What was that?”

“A murder—a most dramatic and remarkable murder. I know how keen you are upon these things, and I would take it as a great favour if you would step down to Appledore Towers and give us the benefit of your advice. It is no ordinary crime. We have had our eyes upon this Mr. Milverton for some time, and, between ourselves, he was a bit of a villain. He is known to have held papers which he used for blackmailing purposes. These papers have all been burned by the murderers. No article of value was taken, as it is probable that the criminals were men of good position, whose sole object was to prevent social exposure.”

“Criminals!” said Holmes. “Plural!”

“Yes, there were two of them. They were, as nearly as possible, captured red-handed. We have their foot-marks, we have their description; it's ten to one that we trace them. The first fellow was a bit too active, but the second was caught by the under-gardener and only got away after a struggle. He was a middle-sized, strongly-built man—square jaw, thick neck, moustache, a mask over his eyes.”

“That's rather vague,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Why, it might be a description of Watson!”

“It's true,” said the inspector, with much amusement. “It might be a description of Watson.”

“Well, I am afraid I can't help you, Lestrade,” said Holmes. “The fact is that I knew this fellow Milverton, that I considered him one of the most dangerous men in London, and that I think there are certain crimes which the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent, justify private revenge. No, it's no use arguing. I have made up my mind. My sympathies are with the criminals rather than with the victim, and I will not handle this case.”

Holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy which we had witnessed, but I observed all the morning that he was in his most thoughtful mood, and he gave me the impression, from his vacant eyes and his abstracted manner, of a man who is striving to recall something to his memory. We were in the middle of our lunch when he suddenly sprang to his feet. “By Jove, Watson; I've got it!” he cried. “Take your hat! Come with me!” He hurried at his top speed down Baker Street and along Oxford Street, until we had almost reached Regent Circus. Here on the left hand there stands a shop window filled with photographs of the celebrities and beauties of the day. Holmes's eyes fixed themselves upon one of them, and following his gaze I saw the picture of a regal and stately lady in Court dress, with a high diamond tiara upon her noble head. I looked at that delicately-curved nose, at the marked eyebrows, at the straight mouth, and the strong little chin beneath it. Then I caught my breath as I read the time-honoured title of the great nobleman and statesman whose wife she had been. My eyes met those of Holmes, and he put his finger to his lips as we turned away from the window.

米尔沃顿

我现在讲的事情发生在许多年以前，尽避如此，我说起来还是有些担心。因为在很长时间里，哪怕是最谨慎、最有节制地把事实讲出去，都是不可能的。现在因为主要人物已经不会再受人间的法律的制裁，所以能够有保留地讲述，而不致损害任何人的名声。这件事是歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生和我平生所经历的最为奇异的案件。如果我略去了日期或其他能够使人追溯到事情真相的情节，希望读者原谅。

在一个严冬的傍晚，福尔摩斯和我出去散步，回来的时候大约已经六点钟了。福尔摩斯打开了灯，灯光照出桌子上有一张名片。他看了名片一眼，不禁哼了一声，便把名片扔在地板上。我捡起来读道：

查尔斯·奥格斯特斯·米尔沃顿

阿倍尔多塔

韩姆斯德区

代理人

我问：“他是谁？”

“伦敦最坏的人。"福尔摩斯答道，然后坐下来把腿伸到壁炉前。"名片背后有什么字吗？”

我把名片翻过来，读道：

“六点半来访——Ｃ．Ａ．Ｍ．”

“哼，他就要来了。华生，当你到动物园站在蛇的前面，看着这种蜿蜒爬行的带毒动物，看着它吓人的眼睛和邪恶的扁脸，你一定会有一种厌恶的感觉并且想要避开吧？这就是米尔沃顿给我的感觉。我和不下五十个杀人犯打过一交一道，就连其中最坏的犯人，也没有象他那样使我如此厌恶。可是我又不能不和他有事务往来，他到这儿来，的确是我约的。”

“他到底是个什么样的人呢？”

“华生，别急，听我告诉你。在诈骗犯的圈子里，他可以说是首屈一指的。上帝帮他的忙，尤其是那些名誉和秘密受到米尔沃顿控制的女人更不得不帮忙。他带着一副微笑的面孔和一颗铁石般的心肠，进行勒索，再勒索，直到把她们的血吸干。这个家伙有特殊的本事，本来是可以在更体面的行业中发迹的。他的方法是：让人们知道，他愿意付出很高的代价收买有钱有势人的信件。他不仅从不可靠的男一女仆人手里得到这些东西，而且更多地从上流社会的流一氓手里弄到，这些人常常骗得喜欢轻信的妇女的感情和信任。他做买卖绝不小气，我偶然听说他付给一个仆人七百镑，只买了一张有两行字的便条，结局是造成一个贵族家庭的毁灭。市面上的样样事情全会传到米尔沃顿那里。这个大城市里有成百上千的人一听到他的名字便会吓得脸色发白。谁也不知道他哪一天会捉弄到自己头上，因为他有钱又有手腕，可以为所欲为。他还能把一张牌留下好几年，等到可以赢得最大的赌注的时候才打出去。我说过，他是伦敦最坏的人。试问，一个发脾气时打老婆的暴徒怎么能和他相提并论呢？为了往自己已经满满的钱袋里继续塞钱，他能够有步骤地、从容地去折磨人们的心灵。”

我很少听到我的朋友带着这样强烈的感情讲话。

我说：“那么这个人应该受到法律制裁。”

“从法律上说是应当的，但是实际上做不到。例如，控告他让他坐几个月牢，可是随之自己也将身败名裂，这对于一个女人有什么好处呢？所以，受他害的人不敢反击。要是他敲诈一个无辜的人，我们一定抓他，可是他狡猾得象魔鬼一样。不，我们一定要找出别的方法打击他。”

“为什么他要到我们这儿来呢？”

“因为一位当事人把她的不幸案件一交一到我手中。这个人很有名片，她就是贵族小一姐依娃·布莱克维尔，上一季度初登社一交一界的最美丽的女士。过两周她将要和德一温一考伯爵结婚。这个恶魔弄到几封轻率的信——轻率的，华生，没有更坏的事——信是写给一个穷年轻乡绅的。但是，这些信足以破坏这个婚姻。要是不给他一大笔钱，米尔沃顿就会把信送给伯爵。我受委托见他，并且尽我的力量把讨价压低。”

街上传来马蹄声和车轮声。我向窗外望去，只见楼前停着一辆富丽堂皇的双驾马车，车上明亮的灯光照着一对粟色骏马的光润腰腿。仆人开开门，一个矮小而强壮、穿着粗糙的黑色卷一毛一羊皮大衣的人下了车。过了一分钟他来到屋子里。

查尔斯·奥格斯特斯·米尔沃顿年纪约在五十岁左右，头部较大，显得很聪明，面孔又圆又胖，皮肤很光滑，并且总是带着冷笑，两只灵活的灰眼睛在金边大眼镜后面闪闪发光，脸上带点匹克威克先生的那种仁慈，并且堆着假笑，眼①里射一出锐利而又不耐烦的寒光。他的声音也象他的表情那样，既一温一和又稳重。他一面向前走着，一面伸出又小又胖的手，口里低声说他第一次来没有见到我们很感遗憾。福尔摩斯不理睬那只伸出来的手，并且冷冰冰地看着他。米尔沃顿的微笑着的嘴咧开了一些，他耸耸肩，脱一下他的大衣，放在一个椅子背上，一精一心叠好，然后坐下来——

①英国小说家狄更斯《匹克威克外传》中的主人公，以其实慷慨著称。——译者注

他用手向我坐的方向一指，说道：“这位先生是谁？这样讲话慎重吗？行吗？”

“华生大夫是我的朋友和同事。”

“很好，福尔摩斯先生。我这样问，是为了您的当事人好。事情是很微妙的——”

“华生大夫已经听说过了。”

“那么，我们就谈买卖。您说您是代理依娃女士。是不是她已经委托您接受我的条件了？”

“你的条件是什么？”

“七千镑。”

“这个条件可以改动吗？”

“亲一爱一的先生，我觉得讨论条件是很不愉快的，总之，要是在十四号不付钱，十八号的婚礼便一定不能举行。"他挤出令人难以忍受的微笑，脸上是一副洋洋得意的神情。

福尔摩斯想了一会儿，说道：

“你好象把事情看成是不能更改的了。我当然知道这些信的内容。我的当事人一定会按照我的建议去做。我要劝说她把全部事情告诉她未来的丈夫，相信他的宽宏大量。”

米尔沃顿格格地笑了。

他说：“很明显，你不了解这位伯爵。”

从福尔摩斯困惑的面容上，我清楚地看出福尔摩斯是不了解的。

他问：“这些信有什么害处呢？”

米尔沃顿回答：“害处很大，很大。这位女士的信写得很讨人喜欢。但是我可以向你保证，德一温一考伯爵是不会赞赏这些信的。既然你的看法不同，我们不再多谈了。这不过是一桩买卖。如果你认为把这些信一交一到伯爵手中并不违背你的当事人的利益，那么付出这样一大笔钱买回这些信当然是太傻了。"他站起来去拿他的黑色卷一毛一羊皮大衣。

福尔摩斯又气又恼，脸色发灰。

他说：“等一下。不必这样快就走。在这样一个微妙的问题上，我们当然应该努力避免流言蜚语。”

米尔沃顿又坐到原来的椅子上。

他咕哝着说：“这个问题你只能这样办，这是我预料到的。”

福尔摩斯继续说：“可是依娃女士并不富有。我作证，两千镑准会用光她的全部财产，你说的数目是她力所不能及的。所以我请求你降低你的要求，按照我定的数目一交一钱退信，我保证你不可能弄到更多的钱了。”

米尔沃顿似笑非笑，嘴角咧开了一些，并且诙谐地眨着眼睛。

他说：“我知道，你所说的这个女士的财产情况是对的。可是你要知道，一个女士的结婚是她的朋友和亲属替她效力的最好时机。要买一件象样的结婚礼品，他们或许犹豫不决。可是买这些信，我向他们保证，这一叠信所给他们的快乐，要比伦敦的全部宴会所给的还要多。”

福尔摩斯说：“那是办不到的。”

米尔沃顿拿出厚厚的一本东西，喊道：“唉呀呀，多么不幸！请看这个！要是这些女士们不做些努力，我只能认为她们太不明智了。"他举着一封便笺，信封上印着家徽。"这是——不过，在明天早晨以前是不该说出名字的。可是，那时这封信将会落到这位女士的丈夫手中，只是因为她不肯把她的钻石首饰换成纸币，拿出一点点钱来。这真是太可惜了！你记得贵族麦尔兹女士和中尉多尔金的订婚趣闻吗？结婚的前两天，《晨报》上有一段报道，说婚礼取消。为什么？说起来使人难以相信，只要拿出一千二百镑这样小小的一笔钱，问题本来是可以解决的。难道这不可惜吗？我没有想到你是个不通情达理的人，竟然不顾你的当事人的前途和荣誉，在这儿讨价还价。福尔摩斯先生，你实在出我意料。”

福尔摩斯回答：“我所说的是确实的。她没法弄到这笔钱。毁坏这位妇女的一生对你没有什么好处，接下我说的这笔数量并不算小的钱，对你岂不更好？”

“福尔摩斯先生，你错了。事情传出去将会对我间接地有很大好处。我手下有八九件事已到办理的时候了。要是在这些人中传开我对依娃女士要价很高，我想她们全会更加理智一些。你明白我的意思吗？”

福尔摩斯猛然从椅子上站起来。

“华生，到他后面去。不要让他出去！先生，现在让我们看看你本子里有什么？”

米尔沃顿象老鼠一样一下子溜到屋子旁边，背靠墙站着。

接着他翻开上衣的前襟，露出一支手槍一柄一，然后说：“福尔摩斯先生，福尔摩斯先生，我早已料到你会做出些不寻常的事来。这种威胁常常有，可是到底有什么好处呢？我老实告诉你，我是全副武装，既然法律允许自卫，我是准备好要动槍的。此外，如果你认为我会把全部信件放在笔记本中带来，那就完全错了。我不会做这种傻事的。先生们，我今天晚上还要见一两个人，而到韩姆斯德区又很远。"他走向前来，拿其他的大衣，手放在槍上，转身走向门口。我抄起一把椅子，福尔摩斯摇了摇头，我又放下了。米尔沃顿鞠了一个躬，微笑一下，眨眨眼，然后走出屋去。一会儿我们听到砰的关门声和嘎拉嘎拉的车轮声。马车走远了。

福尔摩斯坐在火旁一动不动，他的手深深地插在裤子口袋里，下巴垂到胸前，眼睛盯着发光的余烬。足有半小时他默然不动并且一言不发，然后带着已经打定主意的姿态站了起来，走进他的卧室。过了一会儿，走出来的却是一个俏皮的青年工人，长着山羊一胡一须，样子十分得意。他在灯旁点燃泥制烟斗，对我说：“华生，我过些时候回来。"接着他就消失在黑夜之中。我知道他已经安排好一场和查尔斯·奥格斯特斯·米尔沃顿的较量，可是我作梦也没有想到，这场战斗竟会采取那样特殊的形式。

那些日子福尔摩斯整天穿着这身衣服出出进进，不必说，他的时光是在韩姆斯德区度过的，而且他是有成绩的。可是对于他所做的具体的事情，我却一无所知。终于在一个狂风暴雨的夜晚，风在呼一呼地叫，雨哒哒地打在窗上，他出征归来了。他除掉了化装，坐在火前，并且以他默默的内向的方式得意地笑了起来。

“华生，你不会觉得我是要结婚了吧？”

“不，确实不。”

“告诉你，你会高兴的，我已经订婚了。”

“亲一爱一的朋友，我祝——”

“和米尔沃顿的女仆。”

“唉呀，福尔摩斯！”

“华生，我需要情况。”

“你做过头了吧？”

“这是必须的一步。我装扮成一个生意兴隆的管子工，名字是埃斯柯特。每天晚上我都和她出去，和她谈个没完。天啊，谈的是什么呀！可是，我弄到了我所要的情况。我了解米尔沃顿的家就象了解自己的掌心一样。”

“福尔摩斯，可是这个女孩子呢？”

他耸耸肩。

“亲一爱一的华生，没有别的办法。桌子上的赌注是这样的，你只好尽力出牌。然而，我庆幸我有个情敌，我一转身他准会把我挤掉。今晚的天气多好！”

“你喜欢这种天气？”

“它适合我的目的。华生，我的意思是今天晚上闯入米尔沃顿的家。”

听到这句话，而且是用十分坚决的语气慢慢说出的，我不禁全身打颤，呼吸也停了。象是黑夜的闪电，一瞬间照亮野外的一切角落，我一眼看出这个行动可能产生的每一个后果——查出、被捕、受尊重的事业以不可挽回的失败与屈辱告终，我的朋友将会受到可恶的米尔沃顿的摆一布。

我大声说：“看在老天爷的份上，想想你要做的事吧！”

“我的亲一爱一的朋友，我仔细地想过了。我从来没有鲁莽行一事过，要有其它办法可行，我不会采取这样断然的冒险措施。我们仔细地想一下，我想你会认为这样做在道义上是无可非议的，虽然从法律上说是犯罪的。闯入他的家无非是强行拿走他的本子——拿本子的事你会赞同的。”

我心里衡量了一下这件事。

我说：“是的，只要我们的意图是拿那些用于非法目的的物品，我们的行动在道义上便是正当的。”

“既然在道义上是正当的，那么我要考虑的只有个人风险的问题。如果一个女士迫切需要帮助，一个绅士不应过多考虑个人安危。”

“你将被误解。”

“是的，这是一种冒险。可是除去拿回这些信以外没有其它办法可行。这位不幸的女士没有钱，又没有可信任的亲人。明天是限期的最后一天，除非我们今天晚上弄到这些信，不然这个恶棍便会说到做到，使得这位女士身败名裂。所以，我不是让我的委托人听天由命，便是打出这最后一张牌。华生，只能和你说，这是我和米尔沃顿间的生死决斗。你看到了，他已经赢得了第一个回合，但是我的自尊和荣誉一定要我战斗到底。”

我说：“我不喜欢这样做，可是我想只能如此了。我们什么时候动身？”

“你不必去。”

我说：“除非你不去。我已经说了要去，决不改悔。要是你不让我和你一同去冒这个险，我就要到警察局去告发你。”

“你帮助不了我。”

“你怎么知道？未来的事是没法说的。不管怎样，我的主意已定。除你以外，别人也有自尊和荣誉的。”

福尔摩斯显得有些不耐烦，但是终于舒展开了眉头，他拍着我的肩膀。

“好吧，好吧，我亲一爱一的朋友，就这样办。我们在一平生活好几年了，要是我们全死于同一颗子弹，那倒很有意思。华生，我坦率地对你说吧，我一向有个想法，就是要犯一次收效很高的罪。从这点来说，这就是一次难得的机会。你看！”他从一个一抽一屉里拿出一个整洁的皮套子，套子里有一些发亮的工具。"这是上等的、最好的盗窃工具，镀镍的撬棒，镶着金刚石的玻璃刀，万能钥匙等等，完全能够应付各种情况的需要。还有在黑暗中用的灯。样样东西全准备好了。你有走路不出声的鞋吗？”

“我有橡胶底的网球鞋。”

“好极了！有面具吗？”

“我可以用黑绸子做两个。”

“我看得出来，你做这种事情是很有天才的，很好，你做假面具。走前我们吃点现成的东西。现在是九点半。十一点我们会赶到车尔赤住宅区，然后再到阿倍尔多塔要走一刻钟，半夜以前我们就可以开始工作。不管怎样，我们两点以前可以在口袋中装着依娃女士的信回来。”

福尔摩斯和我穿上夜礼服，这样就象是两个喜欢看戏的人正往家走。在牛津街我们叫了一辆两轮马车去韩姆斯德区的一个地方。到达后，我们付了马车钱，并且扣上我们的外衣，因为很冷，风好象要吹透我们似的。我们沿着荒地的边缘走着。

福尔摩斯说：“这件事需要十分谨慎。那些信件锁在这个家伙书房的保险柜里，他的书房就是他卧室的前厅。不过，正象所有会照料自己的壮汉一样，他睡觉睡得很死。我的未婚妻阿格萨说，在仆人的住房里，把叫不醒主人当成笑话讲。他有一个忠心耿耿的秘书，整个白天从不离开书房。这就是为什么我们要夜晚去。他还有一条凶猛的狗，总在花园里走来走去。最近两个晚上我和阿格萨约会很晚，她把狗锁住了，好让我利落地走掉。这就是那所房子，院子里的那栋大房子。进大门——向右穿过月桂树。我们在这儿戴上面具吧！你看，没有一个窗户有一点灯光，一切都很顺利。”

戴着黑色丝绸面具，我们二人简直变成了伦敦城里那些最好斗的人们了。我们悄悄地走近这所寂静而又一陰一暗的房子。房子的一边有一个带瓦顶的一陽一台，并且有几个窗户和两扇门。

福尔摩斯低声说：“那是他的卧室，这扇门正对着书房。这儿对我们最合适，可是门又上着栓又锁着，要进去就会出很大声音。到这边来。这儿有间花一房，门对着客厅。”

花一房上着锁，福尔摩斯去掉一圈玻璃，从里面拨一开了锁。我们进去了，他随手关上门。从法律观点来看，我们已经成了罪人。花一房里一温一暖的空气和异国花草的浓郁的芳一香迎面袭来，简直使得我们不能呼吸。在黑暗中他抓住我的手，领我沿着一些灌木迅速走过，我们的脸擦过灌木。福尔摩斯有在黑暗中辨认事物的特殊能力，这是一精一心培养出来的。他一面仍然拉着我的手，一面开了一扇门。我模糊地感觉到我们进入了一个大房间，并且刚才在这个房间里有人吸过雪茄烟。他在家具中间摸索着向前走，又开了一扇门，我们过后又随手关上。我伸出手摸一到几件上衣挂在墙上，我知道我是在过道里。我们穿过这间过道以后，福尔摩斯又轻轻地开了右手边的一扇门。这时有个东西向着我们冲过来，我的心几乎要跳出来了，可是当我察觉到那是一只猫的时候，我真想笑出声来。这间房里，火在烧着，并且也充满了浓厚的烟草味。福尔摩斯踮着脚尖走进去，等我进去以后，他轻轻地关上门。我们已经来到米尔沃顿的书房，对面有个门帘，说明那儿通往他的卧室。

火烧得很旺，照亮了全屋。靠近门有个电灯开关，可是即使安全的话，也没有必要开灯。壁炉的一旁有个很厚的窗帘，挡住我们刚才从外面看到的那个凸窗。壁炉的另一旁，有个门通向一陽一台。屋子中间摆着一张书桌，后面有把转椅，转椅上的红色皮革闪闪发光。对着书桌有个大书柜，上面有座雅典娜的半身大理石像。在书柜和墙中间的一个角落里，有①一个高高的绿色保险柜，柜门上的光亮铜把映着壁炉的火光。福尔摩斯悄悄地走过去，看了看保险柜。然后他又溜到卧室的门前，站在那儿歪着头专心地听了一会儿。听不到里面有什么声音。这时，我突然想到通过外边的门很适合作退身之路，所以我检查了这扇门，惊喜地发现门既没有上闩也没有上锁。我碰了一下福尔摩斯的手臂示意，他转过带着面具的脸向门的方向看。我看出他吓了一跳，并且对我的行动表示感到出乎意料，而他的反应也出乎我的意料——

①希腊神话中的智慧女神。——译者注

他把嘴放在我的耳边说：“这样不好，不过我还没有完全弄清你的意思。不管怎样，我们要抓紧时间。”

“我做什么？”

“站在门旁。要是听见有人来，从里面上上门闩，我们可以从我们来的道儿走出去。要是他们从那条道儿来，我们的事办完可以从这个门走，如果没有办完我们可以藏在凸窗的窗帘后面。你明白吗？”

我点了点头，站在门旁。我刚才的害怕感觉消失了，现在一种强烈的愿望激荡着我的心，这种感觉是在我们保卫法律的时候，从来没有感受过的，而今天我们是在藐视法律。我们的使命是崇高的，我认为我们的行为不是自私的，而是富于骑士一精一神的，并且也认清了我们的敌人的丑恶本一性一。这些使得我们这次冒险显得更加有趣。我没有一点犯罪的感觉，反而对于我们的险境感到高兴和振奋。我羡慕地看着福尔摩斯打开他的工具袋，他象一个正进行复杂手术的外科医生，冷静地、科学地、准确地选择他的工具。我知道福尔摩斯有开保险柜的特别嗜好，我也理解他面前那个绿色怪物给予他的喜悦，正是这条巨龙吞噬了许多美丽女士的名声。他把大衣放在一把椅子上，卷上夜礼服的袖口，拿出两把手钻，一根撬棒和几把万能钥匙。我站在中间的门旁，两眼看着其他的两个门，防备紧急情况。尽避如此，遇到阻挠时应该做些什么，我并不清楚。福尔摩斯集中一精一神干了半小时，象个熟练的机械师一样放下一件工具，又拿起另一件。最后我听到嗒的一声，保险柜的绿门拨一开了，我看见里面有许多纸包，分别捆着，用火漆封着，上面还写着字。福尔摩斯挑出一包，但是在闪烁的火光下看不清字迹，他拿出他在黑暗中使用的小灯，因为米尔沃顿就在旁边的屋内，开电灯是太危险了。突然我看见他停了下来，专心地听，接着他立刻关上保险柜的门，拿其他的大衣，把工具塞在口袋里，就奔向凸窗的窗帘，并且摆手要我也过去。

我到了他那儿，才听到使得他的敏锐感觉警惕起来的声音。远处有砰的关门声。又有迅速走近的沉重脚步声，在重重的落步声中夹杂着不清晰的低微的沙沙声。脚步声已到了屋外的走道，在门前停下来，门开了。随着响亮的嗒的一声电灯开了。门又关上了，我们嗅到强烈的刺鼻子的雪茄烟味。然后在离我们几码远的地方有来回走动的脚步声，有人在不断地踱来踱去。最后脚步声停了，可是又听到椅子嘎吱一声。然后听到钥匙在锁中啪嗒一声，还有纸张的沙沙声。

我刚才一直不敢看，但是现在我轻轻地分开我前面的窗帘往里窥视。我感到福尔摩斯的肩压住我的肩，所以我知道他也在看。米尔沃顿的又宽又圆的后背正对着我们，几乎伸手就能够着。显然我们把他的行动估计错了，他一直没有在卧室里，而是坐在房子另一翼的吸烟室里或是台球室里一抽一烟，那儿的窗户我们刚才没有看见。他的头又圆又犬，头发已经灰白，头上还有一块因秃了而发光，这些正在我们视线的前方。他仰靠在红漆椅子上，两条腿伸出，一支雪茄烟斜叼在他嘴上。他穿一件紫一红一色军服式的吸烟服，领子是黑绒的。他手里拿着一叠很厚的法律文件，懒散地读着，嘴里吐着烟圈儿。看不出他会很快改变他的平静和舒适的姿势。

我感到福尔摩斯悄悄地抓住我的手，并且用力握了一下表示信心，象是说这种情况他有把握对付，他的心情也很稳定。从我这儿能看见，我不知道他是否也看到了：保险柜的门没有完全关好，米尔沃顿随时能发现这点。我心中已经打定主意，要是我从米尔沃顿的凝视的姿态上看出柜子引起了他的注意，我便立即跳出去，用我的大衣蒙住他的头，把他按住，剩下的事就一交一福尔摩斯去办。但是米尔沃顿没有抬头看。他懒散地拿着文件，一页一页地翻阅这位律师的申辩。后来我想他看完文件一抽一完烟，会到卧室去，但是还没到这个时候，事情就有了意外的发展，这把我们的思想引到另外一个方向。

我看到米尔沃顿几次看表，有一次他带着不耐烦的样子站起来又坐下。在我听到外面一陽一台上传来微弱的声音以前，未曾料到在这想不到的时间里，竟会有约会。米尔沃顿放下他的文件，笔直地坐在椅子上。又听到微弱的声音，然后有轻轻的敲门声。米尔沃顿站起来，开了门。

他不客气地说：“嗯，你晚来了将近半小时。”

这就是为什么米尔沃顿没有镜门和到了深夜仍然不睡的原因。我听到一位妇女的衣服的轻