“Well, if you couldn’t you couldn’t. If the Countess is a hardmistress, you have your chance to get level with her now. Blessthe girl, what are you shivering about? That’s right. Pull yourselftogether. Now, let us get down to business.” He took a notebookfrom the drawer of his desk. “You say that you have five letterswhich 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 reallygood specimens—Great heavens, is it you?”
The woman, without a word, had raised her veil and droppedthe mantle from her chin. It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut facewhich confronted Milverton—a face with a curved nose, strong,dark eyebrows shading hard, glittering eyes, and a straight, thinlippedmouth 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 wereso very obstinate,” said he. “Why did you drive me to suchextremities? 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 theprice well within your means. You would not pay.”
“So you sent the letters to my husband, and he—the noblestgentleman that ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthyto lace—he broke his gallant heart and died. You remember thatlast night, when I came through that door, I begged and prayedyou for mercy, and you laughed in my face as you are trying tolaugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your lips fromtwitching. Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it wasthat night which taught me how I could meet you face to face, andalone. 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 haveyou arrested. But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leavethe room at once as you came, and I will say no more.”
The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and thesame deadly smile on her thin lips.
“You will ruin no more lives as you have ruined mine. You willwring no more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of apoisonous thing. Take that, you hound—and that!—and that!—andthat!”
She had drawn a little gleaming revolver, and emptied barrelafter barrel into Milverton’s body, the muzzle within two feet ofhis shirt front. He shrank away and then fell forward upon thetable, coughing furiously and clawing among the papers. Thenhe staggered to his feet, received another shot, and rolled uponthe floor. “You’ve done me,” he cried, and lay still. The womanlooked at him intently, and ground her heel into his upturned face.
She looked again, but there was no sound or movement. I hearda sharp rustle, the night air blew into the heated room, and theavenger was gone.
No interference upon our part could have saved the manfrom his fate, but, as the woman poured bullet after bullet intoMilverton’s shrinking body I was about to spring out, when Ifelt Holmes’s cold, strong grasp upon my wrist. I understood thewhole argument of that firm, restraining grip—that it was no affairof ours, that justice had overtaken a villain, that we had our ownduties 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 thekey in the lock. At the same instant we heard voices in the houseand the sound of hurrying feet. The revolver shots had roused thehousehold. With perfect coolness Holmes slipped across to thesafe, filled his two arms with bundles of letters, and poured themall into the fire. Again and again he did it, until the safe was empty.
Someone turned the handle and beat upon the outside of thedoor. Holmes looked swiftly round. The letter which had been themessenger 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 afterme, and locked it on the outside. “This way, Watson,” said he, “wecan scale the garden wall in this direction.”
I could not have believed that an alarm could have spread soswiftly. Looking back, the huge house was one blaze of light. Thefront door was open, and figures were rushing down the drive.
The whole garden was alive with people, and one fellow raised aview-halloa as we emerged from the veranda and followed hard atour heels. Holmes seemed to know the grounds perfectly, and hethreaded his way swiftly among a plantation of small trees, I closeat his heels, and our foremost pursuer panting behind us. It wasa six-foot wall which barred our path, but he sprang to the topand over. As I did the same I felt the hand of the man behind megrab at my ankle, but I kicked myself free and scrambled over agrass-strewn coping. I fell upon my face among some bushes, butHolmes had me on my feet in an instant, and together we dashedaway across the huge expanse of Hampstead Heath. We had runtwo miles, I suppose, before Holmes at last halted and listenedintently. All was absolute silence behind us. We had shaken off ourpursuers and were safe.
We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on theday after the remarkable experience which I have recorded, whenMr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, very solemn and impressive, wasushered into our modest sitting-room.
“Good-morning, Mr. Holmes,” said he; “good-morning. May Iask 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, whichoccurred only last night at Hampstead.”
“Dear me!” said Holmes. “What was that?”
