“A coincidence! Here is one of the three men whom we hadnamed as possible actors in this drama, and he meets a violentdeath during the very hours when we know that that dramawas being enacted. The odds are enormous against its beingcoincidence. No figures could express them. No, my dear Watson,the two events are connected—must be connected. It is for us tofind the connection.”
“But now the official police must know all.”
“Not at all. They know all they see at Godolphin Street. Theyknow—and shall know—nothing of Whitehall Terrace. Only weknow of both events, and can trace the relation between them.
There is one obvious point which would, in any case, have turnedmy suspicions against Lucas. Godolphin Street, Westminster,is only a few minutes’ walk from Whitehall Terrace. The othersecret agents whom I have named live in the extreme West End.
It was easier, therefore, for Lucas than for the others to establisha connection or receive a message from the European Secretary’shousehold—a small thing, and yet where events are compressed intoa few hours it may prove essential. Halloa! what have we here?”
Mrs. Hudson had appeared with a lady’s card upon her salver.
Holmes glanced at it, raised his eyebrows, and handed it over tome.
“Ask Lady Hilda Trelawney Hope if she will be kind enough tostep up,” said he.
A moment later our modest apartment, already so distinguishedthat morning, was further honoured by the entrance of the mostlovely woman in London. I had often heard of the beauty of theyoungest daughter of the Duke of Belminster, but no descriptionof it, and no contemplation of colourless photographs, hadprepared me for the subtle, delicate charm and the beautifulcolouring of that exquisite head. And yet as we saw it that autumnmorning, it was not its beauty which would be the first thing toimpress the observer. The cheek was lovely but it was paled withemotion, the eyes were bright but it was the brightness of fever,the sensitive mouth was tight and drawn in an effort after selfcommand.
Terror—not beauty—was what sprang first to the eyeas our fair visitor stood framed for an instant in the open door.
“Has my husband been here, Mr. Holmes?”
“Yes, madam, he has been here.”
“Mr. Holmes. I implore you not to tell him that I came here.”
Holmes bowed coldly, and motioned the lady to a chair.
“Your ladyship places me in a very delicate position. I beg thatyou will sit down and tell me what you desire, but I fear that Icannot make any unconditional promise.”
She swept across the room and seated herself with her backto the window. It was a queenly presence—tall, graceful, andintensely womanly. “Mr. Holmes,” she said—and her white-glovedhands clasped and unclasped as she spoke— “I will speak franklyto you in the hopes that it may induce you to speak frankly inreturn. There is complete confidence between my husband andme on all matters save one. That one is politics. On this his lipsare sealed. He tells me nothing. Now, I am aware that there was amost deplorable occurrence in our house last night. I know thata paper has disappeared. But because the matter is political myhusband refuses to take me into his complete confidence. Now itis essential—essential, I say—that I should thoroughly understandit. You are the only other person, save only these politicians,who knows the true facts. I beg you then, Mr. Holmes, to tell meexactly what has happened and what it will lead to. Tell me all, Mr.
Holmes. Let no regard for your client’s interests keep you silent,for I assure you that his interests, if he would only see it, would bebest served by taking me into his complete confidence. What wasthis paper which was stolen?”
“Madam, what you ask me is really impossible.”
She groaned and sank her face in her hands.
“You must see that this is so, madam. If your husband thinks fitto keep you in the dark over this matter, is it for me, who has onlylearned the true facts under the pledge of professional secrecy, totell what he has withheld? It is not fair to ask it. It is him whomyou must ask.”
“I have asked him. I come to you as a last resource. But withoutyour telling me anything definite, Mr. Holmes, you may do a greatservice if you would enlighten me on one point.”
“What is it, madam?”
“Is my husband’s political career likely to suffer through thisincident?”
“Well, madam, unless it is set right it may certainly have a veryunfortunate effect.”
“Ah!” She drew in her breath sharply as one whose doubts areresolved.
“One more question, Mr. Holmes. From an expression which myhusband dropped in the first shock of this disaster I understoodthat terrible public consequences might arise from the loss of thisdocument.”
“If he said so, I certainly cannot deny it.”
“Of what nature are they?”
“Nay, madam, there again you ask me more than I can possiblyanswer.”
“Then I will take up no more of your time. I cannot blame you,Mr. Holmes, for having refused to speak more freely, and you onyour side will not, I am sure, think the worse of me because Idesire, even against his will, to share my husband’s anxieties. Oncemore I beg that you will say nothing of my visit.”
She looked back at us from the door, and I had a last impressionof that beautiful haunted face, the startled eyes, and the drawnmouth. Then she was gone.
“Now, Watson, the fair sex is your department,” said Holmes,with a smile, when the dwindling frou-frou of skirts had ended inthe slam of the front door. “What was the fair lady’s game? Whatdid she really want?”
“Surely her own statement is clear and her anxiety very natural.”
“Hum! Think of her appearance, Watson—her manner, hersuppressed excitement, her restlessness, her tenacity in askingquestions. Remember that she comes of a caste who do not lightlyshow emotion.”
“She was certainly much moved.”
