I nodded, and stood by the door. My first feeling of fear hadpassed away, and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I hadever enjoyed when we were the defenders of the law instead ofits defiers. The high object of our mission, the consciousness thatit was unselfish and chivalrous, the villainous character of ouropponent, 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 caseof instruments and choosing his tool with the calm, scientificaccuracy of a surgeon who performs a delicate operation. I knewthat the opening of safes was a particular hobby with him, andI understood the joy which it gave him to be confronted withthis green and gold monster, the dragon which held in its mawthe reputations of many fair ladies. Turning up the cuffs of hisdress-coat—he had placed his overcoat on a chair—Holmes laidout two drills, a jemmy, and several skeleton keys. I stood at thecentre door with my eyes glancing at each of the others, ready forany emergency, though, indeed, my plans were somewhat vagueas 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 delicacyof the trained mechanic. Finally I heard a click, the broad greendoor swung open, and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paperpackets, each tied, sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out,but it was as hard to read by the flickering fire, and he drew out hislittle dark lantern, for it was too dangerous, with Milverton in thenext 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 thesafe to, picked up his coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, anddarted behind the window curtain, motioning me to do the same.
It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what hadalarmed his quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere withinthe house. A door slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dullmurmur broke itself into the measured thud of heavy footstepsrapidly approaching. They were in the passage outside the room.
They paused at the door. The door opened. There was a sharpsnick as the electric light was turned on. The door closed oncemore, and the pungent reek of a strong cigar was borne to ournostrils. Then the footsteps continued backward and forward,backward and forward, within a few yards of us. Finally there wasa creak from a chair, and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clickedin a lock, and I heard the rustle of papers.
So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted thedivision of the curtains in front of me and peeped through. Fromthe pressure of Holmes’s shoulder against mine, I knew that hewas sharing my observations. Right in front of us, and almostwithin our reach, was the broad, rounded back of Milverton. Itwas evident that we had entirely miscalculated his movements,that he had never been to his bedroom, but that he had beensitting up in some smoking or billiard room in the farther wingof the house, the windows of which we had not seen. His broad,grizzled head, with its shining patch of baldness, was in theimmediate foreground of our vision. He was leaning far back inthe red leather chair, his legs outstretched, a long, black cigarprojecting at an angle from his mouth. He wore a semi-militarysmoking jacket, claret-coloured, with a black velvet collar. In hishand he held a long, legal document which he was reading in anindolent fashion, blowing rings of tobacco smoke from his lipsas he did so. There was no promise of a speedy departure in hiscomposed bearing and his comfortable attitude.
I felt Holmes’s hand steal into mine and give me a reassuringshake, as if to say that the situation was within his powers, andthat he was easy in his mind. I was not sure whether he had seenwhat was only too obvious from my position, that the door ofthe safe was imperfectly closed, and that Milverton might at anymoment observe it. In my own mind I had determined that if Iwere 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 neverlooked up. He was languidly interested by the papers in his hand,and page after page was turned as he followed the argument of thelawyer. At least, I thought, when he has finished the document andthe cigar he will go to his room, but before he had reached the endof either, there came a remarkable development, which turned ourthoughts into quite another channel.
Several times I had observed that Milverton looked at hiswatch, and once he had risen and sat down again, with a gesture ofimpatience. The idea, however, that he might have an appointmentat so strange an hour never occurred to me until a faint soundreached my ears from the veranda outside. Milverton dropped hispapers and sat rigid in his chair. The sound was repeated, and thenthere 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 thenocturnal vigil of Milverton. There was the gentle rustle of awoman’s dress. I had closed the slit between the curtains asMilverton’s face had turned in our direction, but now I venturedvery carefully to open it once more. He had resumed his seat, thecigar still projecting at an insolent angle from the corner of hismouth. In front of him, in the full glare of the electric light, therestood a tall, slim, dark woman, a veil over her face, a mantle drawnround her chin. Her breath came quick and fast, and every inch ofthe lithe figure was quivering with strong emotion.
“Well,” said Milverton, “you made me lose a good night’s rest,my dear. I hope you’ll prove worth it. You couldn’t come any othertime—eh?”
The woman shook her head.
