福尔摩斯案卷-III THE ADVENTURE OF THE MAZARIN STONE
It was pleasant to Dr. Watson to find himself
once more in the untidy room of the first floor
in Baker Street which had been the starting-point of
so many remarkable adventures. He looked round
him at the scientific charts upon the wall, the
acid-charred bench of chemicals, the violin-case leaning
in the corner, the coal-scuttle, which contained of
old the pipes and tobacco. Finally, his eyes came
round to the fresh and smiling face of Billy, the
young but very wise and tactful page, who had
helped a little to fill up the gap of loneliness and
isolation which surrounded the saturnine figure of
the great detective.
"It all seems very unchanged, Billy. You don't
change, either. I hope the same can be said of
him?"
Billy glanced, with some solicitude, at the closed
door of the bedroom.
"I think he's in bed and asleep," he said.
It was seven in the evening of a lovely summer's
day, but Dr. Watson was sufficiently familiar with
the irregularity of his old friend's hours to feel no
surprise at the idea.
"That means a case, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir; he is very hard at it just now. I'm
frightened for his health. He gets paler and thinner,
and he eats nothing. 'When will you be pleased to
dine, Mr. Holmes?' Mrs. Hudson asked. 'Seven-thirty,
the day after to-morrow,' said he. You
know his way when he is keen on a case."
"Yes, Billy, I know."
"He's following someone. Yesterday he was out
as a workman looking for a job. To-day he was an
old woman. Fairly took me in, he did, and I ought
to know his ways by now." Billy pointed with a
grin to a very baggy parasol which leaned against the
sofa. "That's part of the old woman's outfit," he
said.
"But what is it all about, Billy?"
Billy sank his voice, as one who discusses great
secrets of State. "I don't mind telling you, sir, but
it should go no farther. It's this case of the Crown
diamond."
"What—the hundred-thousand-pound burglary?"
"Yes, sir. They must get it back, sir. Why, we
had the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary
both sitting on that very sofa. Mr. Holmes was
very nice to them. He soon put them at their ease
and promised he would do all he could. Then there
is Lord Cantlemere——"
"Ah!"
"Yes, sir; you know what that means. He's a
stiff 'un, sir, if I may say so. I can get along with
the Prime Minister, and I've nothing against the
Home Secretary, who seemed a civil, obliging sort of
man, but I can't stand his lordship. Neither can
Mr. Holmes, sir. You see, he don't believe in
Mr. Holmes and he was against employing him. He'd
rather he failed."
"And Mr. Holmes knows it?"
"Mr. Holmes always knows whatever there is to know."
"Well, we'll hope he won't fail and that Lord
Cantlemere will be confounded. But I say, Billy,
what is that curtain for across the window?"
"Mr. Holmes had it put up there three days ago.
We've got something funny behind it."
Billy advanced and drew away the drapery which
screened the alcove of the bow window.
Dr. Watson could not restrain a cry of amazement.
There was a facsimile of his old friend,
dressing-gown and all, the face turned three-quarters
towards the window and downwards, as though reading
an invisible book, while the body was sunk deep
in an arm-chair. Billy detached the head and held
it in the air.
"We put it at different angles, so that it may
seem more life-like. I wouldn't dare touch it if the
blind were not down. But when it's up you can see
this from across the way."
"We used something of the sort once before."
"Before my time," said Billy. He drew the
window curtains apart and looked out into the street.
"There are folk who watch us from over yonder.
I can see a fellow now at the window. Have a look
for yourself."
Watson had taken a step forward when the bedroom
door opened, and the long, thin form of Holmes
emerged, his face pale and drawn, but his step and
bearing as active as ever. With a single spring he
was at the window, and had drawn the blind once
more.
"That will do, Billy," said he. "You were in
danger of your life then, my boy, and I can't do
without you just yet. Well, Watson, it is good to see
you in your old quarters once again. You come at
a critical moment."
"So I gather."
"You can go, Billy. That boy is a problem,
Watson. How far am I justified in allowing him to
be in danger?"
"Danger of what, Holmes?"
"Of sudden death. I'm expecting something
this evening."
"Expecting what?"
"To be murdered, Watson."
"No, no; you are joking, Holmes!"
"Even my limited sense of humour could evolve
a better joke than that. But we may be comfortable
in the meantime, may we not? Is alcohol permitted?
The gasogene and cigars are in the old
place. Let me see you once more in the customary
arm-chair. You have not, I hope, learned to despise
my pipe and my lamentable tobacco? It has to
take the place of food these days."
"But why not eat?"
"Because the faculties become refined when you
starve them. Why, surely, as a doctor, my dear
Watson, you must admit that what your digestion
gains in the way of blood supply is so much lost to the
brain. I am a brain, Watson. The rest of me is a mere
appendix. Therefore, it is the brain I must consider."
"But this danger, Holmes?"
"Ah, yes; in case it should come off, it would
perhaps be as well that you should burden your
memory with the name and address of the murderer.
You can give it to Scotland Yard, with my love and
a parting blessing. Sylvius is the name—Count
Negretto Sylvius. Write it down, man, write it
down! 136 Moorside Gardens, N.W. Got it?"
Watson's honest face was twitching with anxiety.
He knew only too well the immense risks taken by
Holmes, and was well aware that what he said was
more likely to be under-statement than exaggeration.
Watson was always the man of action, and
he rose to the occasion.
"Count me in, Holmes. I have nothing to do for
a day or two."
"Your morals don't improve, Watson. You have
added fibbing to your other vices. You bear every
sign of the busy medical man, with calls on him
every hour."
"Not such important ones. But can't you have
this fellow arrested?"
"Yes, Watson, I could. That's what worries
him so."
"But why don't you?"
"Because I don't know where the diamond is."
"Ah! Billy told me—the missing Crown jewel!"
"Yes, the great yellow Mazarin stone. I've cast
my net and I have my fish. But I have not got the
stone. What is the use of taking them? We can
make the world a better place by laying them by the
heels. But that is not what I am out for. It's the
stone I want."
"And is this Count Sylvius one of your fish?"
"Yes, and he's a shark. He bites. The other is
Sam Merton, the boxer. Not a bad fellow, Sam,
but the Count has used him. Sam's not a shark.
He is a great big silly bull-headed gudgeon. But he
is flopping about in my net all the same."
"Where is this Count Sylvius?"
"I've been at his very elbow all the morning.
You've seen me as an old lady, Watson. I was
never more convincing. He actually picked up my
parasol for me once. 'By your leave, madame,'
said he—half-Italian, you know, and with the
Southern graces of manner when in the mood, but a
devil incarnate in the other mood. Life is full of
whimsical happenings, Watson."
"It might have been tragedy."
"Well, perhaps it might. I followed him to old
Straubenzee's workshop in the Minories. Straubenzee
made the air-gun—a very pretty bit of work,
as I understand, and I rather fancy it is in the
opposite window at the present moment. Have you
seen the dummy? Of course, Billy showed it to
you. Well, it may get a bullet through its beautiful
head at any moment. Ah, Billy, what is it?"
The boy had reappeared in the room with a card
upon a tray. Holmes glanced at it with raised
eyebrows and an amused smile.
"The man himself. I had hardly expected this.
Grasp the nettle, Watson! A man of nerve. Possibly
you have heard of his reputation as a shooter
of big game. It would indeed be a triumphant ending
to his excellent sporting record if he added me to
his bag. This is a proof that he feels my toe very
close behind his heel."
"Send for the police."
"I probably shall. But not just yet. Would
you glance carefully out of the window, Watson, and
see if anyone is hanging about in the street?"
Watson looked warily round the edge of the curtain.
"Yes, there is one rough fellow near the door."
"That will be Sam Merton—the faithful but
rather fatuous Sam. Where is this gentleman,
Billy?"
"In the waiting-room, sir."
"Show him up when I ring."
"Yes, sir."
"If I am not in the room, show him in all the same."
"Yes, sir."
Watson waited until the door was closed, and then
he turned earnestly to his companion.
"Look here, Holmes, this is simply impossible.
This is a desperate man, who sticks at nothing. He
may have come to murder you."
"I should not be surprised."
"I insist upon staying with you."
"You would be horribly in the way."
"In his way?"
"No, my dear fellow—in my way."
"Well, I can't possibly leave you."
"Yes, you can, Watson. And you will, for you
have never failed to play the game. I am sure you
will play it to the end. This man has come for his
own purpose, but he may stay for mine." Holmes
took out his notebook and scribbled a few lines.
"Take a cab to Scotland Yard and give this to
Youghal of the C.I.D. Come back with the police.
The fellow's arrest will follow."
"I'll do that with joy."
"Before you return I may have just time enough
to find out where the stone is." He touched the
bell. "I think we will go out through the bedroom.
This second exit is exceedingly useful. I rather
want to see my shark without his seeing me, and I
have, as you will remember, my own way of doing it."
It was, therefore, an empty room into which Billy,
a minute later, ushered Count Sylvius. The famous
game-shot, sportsman, and man-about-town was a
big, swarthy fellow, with a formidable dark moustache,
shading a cruel, thin-lipped mouth, and surmounted
by a long, curved nose, like the beak of an
eagle. He was well dressed, but his brilliant necktie,
shining pin, and glittering rings were flamboyant in
their effect. As the door closed behind him he
looked round him with fierce, startled eyes, like one
who suspects a trap at every turn. Then he gave a
violent start as he saw the impassive head and the
collar of the dressing-gown which projected above
the arm-chair in the window. At first his expression
was one of pure amazement. Then the light of a
horrible hope gleamed in his dark, murderous eyes.
He took one more glance round to see that there were
no witnesses, and then, on tiptoe, his thick stick
half raised, he approached the silent figure. He
was crouching for his final spring and blow when a
cool, sardonic voice greeted him from the open
bedroom door:
"Don't break it, Count! Don't break it!"
The assassin staggered back, amazement in his
convulsed face. For an instant he half raised his
loaded cane once more, as if he would turn his
violence from the effigy to the original; but there was
something in that steady grey eye and mocking smile
which caused his hand to sink to his side.
"It's a pretty little thing," said Holmes,
advancing towards the image. "Tavernier, the
French modeller, made it. He is as good at
waxworks as your friend Straubenzee is at air-guns."
"Air-guns, sir! What do you mean?"
"Put your hat and stick on the side-table. Thank
you! Pray take a seat. Would you care to put
your revolver out also? Oh, very good, if you
prefer to sit upon it. Your visit is really most
opportune, for I wanted badly to have a few minutes'
chat with you."
The Count scowled, with heavy, threatening eyebrows.
"I, too, wished to have some words with you,
Holmes. That is why I am here. I won't deny
that I intended to assault you just now."
Holmes swung his leg on the edge of the table.
"I rather gathered that you had some idea of the
sort in your head," said he. "But why these
personal attentions?"
"Because you have gone out of your way to annoy
me. Because you have put your creatures upon my
track."
"My creatures! I assure you no!"
"Nonsense! I have had them followed. Two
can play at that game, Holmes."
"It is a small point, Count Sylvius, but perhaps
you would kindly give me my prefix when you
address me. You can understand that, with my
routine of work, I should find myself on familiar
terms with half the rogues' gallery, and you will
agree that exceptions are invidious."
"Well, Mr. Holmes, then."
"Excellent! But I assure you you are mistaken
about my alleged agents."
Count Sylvius laughed contemptuously.
"Other people can observe as well as you. Yesterday
there was an old sporting man. To-day it
was an elderly woman. They held me in view all
day."
"Really, sir, you compliment me. Old Baron
Dowson said the night before he was hanged that
in my case what the law had gained the stage had
lost. And now you give my little impersonations
your kindly praise!"
"It was you—you yourself?"
Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "You can see in
the corner the parasol which you so politely handed
to me in the Minories before you began to suspect."
"If I had known, you might never——"
"Have seen this humble home again. I was well
aware of it. We all have neglected opportunities to
deplore. As it happens, you did not know, so here
we are!"
The Count's knotted brows gathered more heavily
over his menacing eyes. "What you say only makes
the matter worse. It was not your agents, but your
play-acting, busybody self! You admit that you
have dogged me. Why?"
"Come now, Count. You used to shoot lions in
Algeria."
"Well?"
"But why?"
"Why? The sport—the excitement—the danger!"
"And, no doubt, to free the country from a pest?"
"Exactly!"
"My reasons in a nutshell!"
The Count sprang to his feet, and his hand
involuntarily moved back to his hip-pocket.
"Sit down, sir, sit down! There was another,
more practical, reason. I want that yellow diamond!"
Count Sylvius lay back in his chair with an evil
smile.
"Upon my word!" said he.
"You knew that I was after you for that. The
real reason why you are here to-night is to find out
how much I know about the matter and how far my
removal is absolutely essential. Well, I should say
that, from your point of view, it is absolutely
essential, for I know all about it, save only one thing,
which you are about to tell me."
"Oh, indeed! And, pray, what is this missing fact?"
"Where the Crown diamond now is."
The Count looked sharply at his companion.
"Oh, you want to know that, do you? How the
devil should I be able to tell you where it is?"
"You can, and you will."
"Indeed!"
"You can't bluff me, Count Sylvius." Holmes's
eyes, as he gazed at him, contracted and lightened
until they were like two menacing points of steel.
"You are absolute plate-glass. I see to the very
back of your mind."
"Then, of course, you see where the diamond is!"
Holmes clapped his hands with amusement, and
then pointed a derisive finger. "Then you do
know. You have admitted it!"
"I admit nothing."
"Now, Count, if you will be reasonable, we can
do business. If not, you will get hurt."
Count Sylvius threw up his eyes to the ceiling.
"And you talk about bluff!" said he.
Holmes looked at him thoughtfully, like a master
chess-player who meditates his crowning move.
Then he threw open the table drawer and drew out
a squat notebook.
"Do you know what I keep in this book?"
"No, sir, I do not!"
"You!"
"Me?"
"Yes, sir, you! You are all here—every action
of your vile and dangerous life."
"Damn you, Holmes!" cried the Count, with
blazing eyes. "There are limits to my patience!"
"It's all here, Count. The real facts as to the
death of old Mrs. Harold, who left you the Blymer
estate, which you so rapidly gambled away."
"You are dreaming!"
"And the complete life history of Miss Minnie
Warrender."
"Tut! You will make nothing of that!"
"Plenty more here, Count. Here is the robbery
in the train-de-luxe to the Riviera on February 13,
1892. Here is the forged cheque in the same year
on the Crédit Lyonnais."
"No; you're wrong there."
"Then I am right on the others! Now, Count,
you are a card-player. When the other fellow has all
the trumps, it saves time to throw down your hand."
"What has all this talk to do with the jewel of
which you spoke?"
"Gently, Count. Restrain that eager mind!
Let me get to the points in my own humdrum
fashion. I have all this against you; but, above
all, I have a clear case against both you and your
fighting bully in the case of the Crown diamond."
"Indeed!"
"I have the cabman who took you to Whitehall
and the cabman who brought you away. I have
the Commissionaire who saw you near the case. I
have Ikey Sanders, who refused to cut it up for you.
Ikey has peached, and the game is up."
The veins stood out on the Count's forehead. His
dark, hairy hands were clenched in a convulsion of
restrained emotion. He tried to speak, but the
words would not shape themselves.
"That's the hand I play from," said Holmes. "I
put it all upon the table. But one card is missing.
It's the King of Diamonds. I don't know where the
stone is."
"You never shall know."
"No? Now, be reasonable, Count. Consider
the situation. You are going to be locked up for
twenty years. So is Sam Merton. What good are
you going to get out of your diamond? None in
the world. But if you hand it over—well, I'll
compound a felony. We don't want you or Sam.
We want the stone. Give that up, and so far as I
am concerned you can go free so long as you behave
yourself in the future. If you make another
slip—well, it will be the last. But this time my
commission is to get the stone, not you."
"But if I refuse?"
"Why, then—alas!—it must be you and not the
stone."
Billy had appeared in answer to a ring.
"I think, Count, that it would be as well to have
your friend Sam at this conference. After all, his
interests should be represented. Billy, you will see
a large and ugly gentleman outside the front door.
Ask him to come up."
"If he won't come, sir?"
"No violence, Billy. Don't be rough with him.
If you tell him that Count Sylvius wants him he will
certainly come."
"What are you going to do now?" asked the
Count, as Billy disappeared.
"My friend Watson was with me just now. I told
him that I had a shark and a gudgeon in my net;
now I am drawing the net and up they come
together."
The Count had risen from his chair, and his hand
was behind his back. Holmes held something half
protruding from the pocket of his dressing-gown.
"You won't die in your bed, Holmes."
"I have often had the same idea. Does it matter
very much? After all, Count, your own exit is more
likely to be perpendicular than horizontal. But
these anticipations of the future are morbid. Why
not give ourselves up to the unrestrained enjoyment
of the present?"
A sudden wild-beast light sprang up in the dark,
menacing eyes of the master criminal. Holmes's
figure seemed to grow taller as he grew tense and
ready.
"It is no use your fingering your revolver, my
friend," he said, in a quiet voice. "You know
perfectly well that you dare not use it, even if I gave
you time to draw it. Nasty, noisy things, revolvers,
Count. Better stick to air-guns. Ah! I think I
hear the fairy footstep of your estimable partner.
Good day, Mr. Merton. Rather dull in the street,
is it not?"
The prize-fighter, a heavily built young man with
a stupid, obstinate, slab-sided face, stood awkwardly
at the door, looking about him with a puzzled expression.
Holmes's debonair manner was a new experience,
and though he vaguely felt that it was hostile,
he did not know how to counter it. He turned to
his more astute comrade for help.
"What's the game now, Count? What's this
fellow want? What's up?" His voice was deep
and raucous.
The Count shrugged his shoulders and it was
Holmes who answered.
"If I may put it in a nutshell, Mr. Merton, I
should say it was all up."
The boxer still addressed his remarks to his
associate.
"Is this cove trying to be funny, or what? I'm
not in the funny mood myself."
"No, I expect not," said Holmes. "I think I
can promise you that you will feel even less
humorous as the evening advances. Now, look here,
Count Sylvius. I'm a busy man and I can't waste
time. I'm going into that bedroom. Pray make
yourselves quite at home in my absence. You can
explain to your friend how the matter lies without
the restraint of my presence. I shall try over the
Hoffmann Barcarolle upon my violin. In five
minutes I shall return for your final answer. You
quite grasp the alternative, do you not? Shall we
take you, or shall we have the stone?"
Holmes withdrew, picking up his violin from the
corner as he passed. A few moments later the
long-drawn, wailing notes of that most haunting of tunes
came faintly through the closed door of the bedroom.
"What is it, then?" asked Merton anxiously, as
his companion turned to him. "Does he know
about the stone?"
"He knows a damned sight too much about it.
I'm not sure that he doesn't know all about it."
"Good Lord!" The boxer's sallow face turned
a shade whiter.
"Ikey Sanders has split on us."
"He has, has he? I'll do him down a thick 'un
for that if I swing for it."
"That won't help us much. We've got to make
up our minds what to do."
"Half a mo'," said the boxer, looking suspiciously
at the bedroom door. "He's a leary cove that wants
watching. I suppose he's not listening?"
"How can he be listening with that music going?"
"That's right. Maybe somebody's behind a curtain.
Too many curtains in this room." As he
looked round he suddenly saw for the first time the
effigy in the window, and stood staring and pointing,
too amazed for words.
"Tut! it's only a dummy," said the Count.
"A fake, is it? Well, strike me! Madame
Tussaud ain't in it. It's the living spit of him,
gown and all. But them curtains, Count!"
"Oh, confound the curtains! We are wasting our
time, and there is none too much. He can lag us
over this stone."
"The deuce he can!"
"But he'll let us slip if we only tell him where the
swag is."
"What! Give it up? Give up a hundred thousand quid?"
"It's one or the other."
Merton scratched his short-cropped pate.
"He's alone in there. Let's do him in. If his
light were out we should have nothing to fear."
The Count shook his head.
"He is armed and ready. If we shot him we
could hardly get away in a place like this. Besides,
it's likely enough that the police know whatever
evidence he has got. Hallo! What was that?"
There was a vague sound which seemed to come
from the window. Both men sprang round, but all
was quiet. Save for the one strange figure seated in
the chair, the room was certainly empty.
"Something in the street," said Merton. "Now
look here, guv'nor, you've got the brains. Surely
you can think a way out of it. If slugging is no use
then it's up to you."
"I've fooled better men than he," the Count
answered. "The stone is here in my secret pocket.
I take no chances leaving it about. It can be out
of England to-night and cut into four pieces in
Amsterdam before Sunday. He knows nothing
of Van Seddar."
"I thought Van Seddar was going next week."
"He was. But now he must get off by the next
boat. One or other of us must slip round with the
stone to Lime Street and tell him."
"But the false bottom ain't ready."
"Well, he must take it as it is and chance it.
There's not a moment to lose." Again, with the
sense of danger which becomes an instinct with the
sportsman, he paused and looked hard at the window.
Yes, it was surely from the street that the faint
sound had come.
"As to Holmes," he continued, "we can fool him
easily enough. You see, the damned fool won't
arrest us if he can get the stone. Well, we'll promise
him the stone. We'll put him on the wrong track
about it, and before he finds that it is the wrong
track it will be in Holland and we out of the
country."
"That sounds good to me!" cried Sam Merton,
with a grin.
"You go on and tell the Dutchman to get a move
on him. I'll see this sucker and fill him up with a
bogus confession. I'll tell him that the stone is in
Liverpool. Confound that whining music; it gets
on my nerves! By the time he finds it isn't in
Liverpool it will be in quarters and we on the blue
water. Come back here, out of a line with that
keyhole. Here is the stone."
"I wonder you dare carry it."
"Where could I have it safer? If we could take
it out of Whitehall someone else could surely take it
out of my lodgings."
"Let's have a look at it."
Count Sylvius cast a somewhat unflattering
glance at his associate, and disregarded the
unwashed hand which was extended towards him.
"What—d'ye think I'm going to snatch it off
you? See here, mister, I'm getting a bit tired of
your ways."
"Well, well; no offence, Sam. We can't afford
to quarrel. Come over to the window if you want
to see the beauty properly. Now hold it to the
light! Here!"
"Thank you!"
With a single spring Holmes had leaped from the
dummy's chair and had grasped the precious jewel.
He held it now in one hand, while his other pointed
a revolver at the Count's head. The two villains
staggered back in utter amazement. Before they
had recovered Holmes had pressed the electric bell.
"No violence, gentlemen—no violence, I beg of
you! Consider the furniture! It must be very
clear to you that your position is an impossible one.
The police are waiting below."
The Count's bewilderment overmastered his rage
and fear.
"But how the deuce——?" he gasped.
"Your surprise is very natural. You are not
aware that a second door from my bedroom leads
behind that curtain. I fancied that you must have
heard me when I displaced the figure, but luck was
on my side. It gave me a chance of listening to
your racy conversation which would have been
painfully constrained had you been aware of my
presence."
The Count gave a gesture of resignation.
"We give you best, Holmes. I believe you are
the devil himself."
"Not far from him, at any rate," Holmes answered,
with a polite smile.
Sam Merton's slow intellect had only gradually
appreciated the situation. Now, as the sound of
heavy steps came from the stairs outside, he broke
silence at last.
"A fair cop!" said he. "But, I say, what
about that bloomin' fiddle! I hear it yet."
"Tut, tut!" Holmes answered. "You are perfectly
right. Let it play! These modern gramophones
are a remarkable invention."
There was an inrush of police, the handcuffs
clicked and the criminals were led to the waiting
cab. Watson lingered with Holmes, congratulating
him upon this fresh leaf added to his laurels. Once
more their conversation was interrupted by the
imperturbable Billy with his card-tray.
"Lord Cantlemere, sir."
"Show him up, Billy. This is the eminent peer
who represents the very highest interests," said
Holmes. "He is an excellent and loyal person, but
rather of the old regime. Shall we make him
unbend? Dare we venture upon a slight liberty?
He knows, we may conjecture, nothing of what has
occurred."
The door opened to admit a thin, austere figure
with a hatchet face and drooping mid-Victorian whiskers
of a glossy blackness which hardly corresponded
with the rounded shoulders and feeble gait. Holmes
advanced affably, and shook an unresponsive hand.
"How-do-you-do, Lord Cantlemere? It is chilly,
for the time of year, but rather warm indoors. May
I take your overcoat?"
"No, I thank you; I will not take it off."
Holmes laid his hand insistently upon the sleeve.
"Pray allow me! My friend Dr. Watson would
assure you that these changes of temperature are
most insidious."
His lordship shook himself free with some impatience.
"I am quite comfortable, sir. I have no need to
stay. I have simply looked in to know how your
self-appointed task was progressing."
"It is difficult—very difficult."
"I feared that you would find it so."
There was a distinct sneer in the old courtier's
words and manner.
"Every man finds his limitations, Mr. Holmes,
but at least it cures us of the weakness of
self-satisfaction."
"Yes, sir, I have been much perplexed."
"No doubt."
"Especially upon one point. Possibly you could
help me upon it?"
"You apply for my advice rather late in the day.
I thought that you had your own all-sufficient
methods. Still, I am ready to help you."
"You see, Lord Cantlemere, we can no doubt
frame a case against the actual thieves."
"When you have caught them."
"Exactly. But the question is—how shall we
proceed against the receiver?"
"Is this not rather premature?"
"It is as well to have our plans ready. Now,
what would you regard as final evidence against
the receiver?"
"The actual possession of the stone."
"You would arrest him upon that?"
"Most undoubtedly."
Holmes seldom laughed, but he got as near it as
his old friend Watson could remember.
"In that case, my dear sir, I shall be under the
painful necessity of advising your arrest."
Lord Cantlemere was very angry. Some of the
ancient fires flickered up into his sallow cheeks.
"You take a great liberty, Mr. Holmes. In fifty
years of official life I cannot recall such a case. I
am a busy man, sir, engaged upon important affairs,
and I have no time or taste for foolish jokes. I may
tell you frankly, sir, that I have never been a
believer in your powers, and that I have always been
of the opinion that the matter was far safer in the
hands of the regular police force. Your conduct
confirms all my conclusions. I have the honour,
sir, to wish you good evening."
Holmes had swiftly changed his position and was
between the peer and the door.
"One moment, sir," said he. "To actually go off
with the Mazarin stone would be a more serious
offence than to be found in temporary possession
of it."
"Sir, this is intolerable! Let me pass."
"Put your hand in the right-hand pocket of your
overcoat."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Come—come; do what I ask."
An instant later the amazed peer was standing,
blinking and stammering, with the great yellow stone
on his shaking palm.
"What! What! How is this, Mr. Holmes?"
"Too bad, Lord Cantlemere, too bad!" cried
Holmes. "My old friend here will tell you that I
have an impish habit of practical joking. Also that
I can never resist a dramatic situation. I took the
liberty—the very great liberty, I admit—of putting
the stone into your pocket at the beginning of our
interview."
The old peer stared from the stone to the smiling
face before him.
"Sir, I am bewildered. But—yes—it is indeed
the Mazarin stone. We are greatly your debtors,
Mr. Holmes. Your sense of humour may, as you
admit, be somewhat perverted, and its exhibition
remarkably untimely, but at least I withdraw any
reflection I have made upon your amazing
professional powers. But how——"
"The case is but half finished; the details can
wait. No doubt, Lord Cantlemere, your pleasure in
telling of this successful result in the exalted circle
to which you return will be some small atonement
for my practical joke. Billy, you will show his
lordship out, and tell Mrs. Hudson that I should be
glad if she would send up dinner for two as soon as
possible."