notice from the furnished house which they had hired, havingfirst, as they thought, taken vengeance both upon the man whohad defied and the one who had betrayed them.
Months afterwards a curious newspaper cutting reached us fromBuda-Pesth. It told how two Englishmen who had been travelingwith a woman had met with a tragic end. They had each beenstabbed, it seems, and the Hungarian police were of opinion thatthey had quarreled and had inflicted mortal injuries upon eachother. Holmes, however, is, I fancy, of a different way of thinking,and holds to this day that, if one could find the Grecian girl, onemight learn how the wrongs of herself and her brother came to beavenged.
The Naval Treaty
The July which immediately succeeded my marriage was madememorable by three cases of interest, in which I had the privilegeof being associated with Sherlock Holmes and of studying hismethods. I find them recorded in my notes under the headingsof “The Adventure of the Second Stain,” “The Adventure of theNaval Treaty,” and “The Adventure of the Tired Captain.” Thefirst of these, however, deals with interest of such importanceand implicates so many of the first families in the kingdom thatfor many years it will be impossible to make it public. No case,however, in which Holmes was engaged has ever illustrated thevalue of his analytical methods so clearly or has impressed thosewho were associated with him so deeply. I still retain an almostverbatim report of the interview in which he demonstrated thetrue 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 beside-issues. The new century will have come, however, before thestory can be safely told. Meanwhile I pass on to the second on mylist, which promised also at one time to be of national importance,and was marked by several incidents which give it a quite uniquecharacter.
During my school-days I had been intimately associated with alad named Percy Phelps, who was of much the same age as myself,though he was two classes ahead of me. He was a very brilliantboy, and carried away every prize which the school had to offer,finished his exploits by winning a scholarship which sent him on tocontinue his triumphant career at Cambridge. He was, I remember,extremely well connected, and even when we were all little boystogether we knew that his mother’s brother was Lord Holdhurst,the great conservative politician. This gaudy relationship did himlittle good at school. On the contrary, it seemed rather a piquantthing to us to chevy him about the playground and hit him over theshins with a wicket. But it was another thing when he came out intothe world. I heard vaguely that his abilities and the influences whichhe commanded had won him a good position at the Foreign Office,and then he passed completely out of my mind until the followingletter recalled his existence:
Briarbrae, Woking.
My dear Watson:
I have no doubt that you can remember “Tadpole” Phelps, whowas in the fifth form when you were in the third. It is possibleeven that you may have heard that through my uncle’s influence Iobtained a good appointment at the Foreign Office, and that I wasin a situation of trust and honor until a horrible misfortune camesuddenly to blast my career.
There is no use writing of the details of that dreadful event. Inthe event of your acceding to my request it is probably that I shallhave to narrate them to you. I have only just recovered from nineweeks of brain-fever, and am still exceedingly weak. Do you thinkthat you could bring your friend Mr. Holmes down to see me? Ishould like to have his opinion of the case, though the authoritiesassure me that nothing more can be done. Do try to bring himdown, and as soon as possible. Every minute seems an hour while Ilive in this state of horrible suspense. Assure him that if I have notasked his advice sooner it was not because I did not appreciate histalents, but because I have been off my head ever since the blowfell. Now I am clear again, though I dare not think of it too muchfor fear of a relapse. I am still so weak that I have to write, as yousee, 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. Somoved was I that even had it been a difficult matter I should havetried it, but of course I knew well that Holmes loved his art, sothat he was ever as ready to bring his aid as his client could beto receive it. My wife agreed with me that not a moment shouldbe lost in laying the matter before him, and so within an hour ofbreakfast-time I found myself back once more in the old rooms inBaker Street.
Holmes was seated at his side-table clad in his dressing-gown,and working hard over a chemical investigation. A large curvedretort 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 hisinvestigation must be of importance, seated myself in an arm-chairand waited. He dipped into this bottle or that, drawing out a fewdrops of each with his glass pipette, and finally brought a test-tubecontaining a solution over to the table. In his right hand he held aslip of litmus-paper.
“You come at a crisis, Watson,” said he. “If this paper remainsblue, all is well. If it turns red, it means a man’s life.” He dipped itinto 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 aninstant, Watson. You will find tobacco in the Persian slipper.” Heturned to his desk and scribbled off several telegrams, which werehanded over to the page-boy. Then he threw himself down intothe chair opposite, and drew up his knees until his fingers claspedround his long, thin shins.
