elapt1c/ElapticAI-255 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 149M
“Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however.
I left the house a little after eight o’clock this morning in the
character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and
freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all
that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou
villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to
the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on
the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor,
and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could
open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window
could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and
examined it closely from every point of view, but without noting
anything else of interest.

“I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there
was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent
the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in
exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two fills of shag tobacco,
and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say
nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was
not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to
listen to.”

“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked.

“Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is the
daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the
Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives
out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom
goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male
visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing,
never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey
Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a
confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews,
and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I
began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think
over my plan of campaign.

“This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter.
He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between
them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client,
his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably
transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less
likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should
continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the
gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it
widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these
details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are
to understand the situation.”

“I am following you closely,” I answered.

“I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up
to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably
handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of whom
I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman
to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of
a man who was thoroughly at home.

“He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of
him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking
excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently
he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to
the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it
earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,’ he shouted, ‘first to Gross &
Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the
Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!’

“Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well
to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman
with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all
the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn’t
pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only
caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with
a face that a man might die for.

“‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a sovereign if
you reach it in twenty minutes.’

“This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether
I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when a
cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby
fare, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of St.
Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty
minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was
clear enough what was in the wind.

“My cabby drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the others
were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming horses
were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried
into the church. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had
followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with
them. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I
lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a
church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to
me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me.

“‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’

“‘What then?’ I asked.

“Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however.

I left the house a little after eight o’clock this morning in the

character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and

freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all

that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou

villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to

the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on

the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor,

and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could

open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window

could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and

examined it closely from every point of view, but without noting

anything else of interest.

“I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there

was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent

the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in

exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two fills of shag tobacco,

and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say

nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was

not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to

listen to.”

“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked.

“Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is the

daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the

Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives

out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom

goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male

visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing,

never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey

Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a

confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews,

and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I

began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think

over my plan of campaign.

“This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter.

He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between

them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client,

his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably

transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less

likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should

continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the

gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it

widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these

details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are

to understand the situation.”

“I am following you closely,” I answered.

“I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up

to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably

handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of whom

I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman

to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of

a man who was thoroughly at home.

“He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of

him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking

excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently

he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to

the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it

earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,’ he shouted, ‘first to Gross &

Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the

Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!’

“Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well

to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman

with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all

the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn’t

pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only

caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with

a face that a man might die for.

“‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a sovereign if

you reach it in twenty minutes.’

“This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether

I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when a

cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby

fare, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of St.

Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty

minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was

clear enough what was in the wind.

“My cabby drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the others

were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming horses

were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried

into the church. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had

followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with

them. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I

lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a

church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to

me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me.

“‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’

“‘What then?’ I asked.