“What’s this, Watson? Eh? What’s this? Record of a series ofmessages in the advertisements of a paper. Daily Telegraph agonycolumn by the print and paper. Right-hand top corner of a page.
No dates—but messages arrange themselves. This must be thefirst:
“Hoped to hear sooner. Terms agreed to. Write fully to addressgiven on card.
“Pierrot.
“Next comes:
“Too complex for description. Must have full report, Stuff awaitsyou when goods delivered.
“Pierrot.
“Then comes:
“Matter presses. Must withdraw offer unless contract completed.
Make appointment by letter. Will confirm by advertisement.
“Pierrot.
“Finally:
“Monday night after nine. Two taps. Only ourselves. Do not be sosuspicious. Payment in hard cash when goods delivered.
“Pierrot.
“A fairly complete record, Watson! If we could only get at theman at the other end!” He sat lost in thought, tapping his fingerson the table. Finally he sprang to his feet.
“Well, perhaps it won’t be so difficult, after all. There is nothingmore to be done here, Watson. I think we might drive round tothe offices of the Daily Telegraph, and so bring a good day’s workto a conclusion.”
Mycroft Holmes and Lestrade had come round by appointmentafter breakfast next day and Sherlock Holmes had recounted tothem our proceedings of the day before. The professional shookhis head over our confessed burglary.
“We can’t do these things in the force, Mr. Holmes,” said he. “Nowonder you get results that are beyond us. But some of these daysyou’ll go too far, and you’ll find yourself and your friend in trouble.”
“For England, home and beauty—eh, Watson? Martyrs on thealtar of our country. But what do you think of it, Mycroft?”
“Excellent, Sherlock! Admirable! But what use will you make ofit?”
Holmes picked up the Daily Telegraph which lay upon the table.
“Have you seen Pierrot’s advertisement to-day?”
“What? Another one?”
“Yes, here it is:
“To-night. Same hour. Same place. Two taps. Most vitally important.
Your own safety at stake.
“Pierrot.
“By George!” cried Lestrade. “If he answers that we’ve got him!”
“That was my idea when I put it in. I think if you could bothmake it convenient to come with us about eight o’clock to CaulfieldGardens we might possibly get a little nearer to a solution.”
One of the most remarkable characteristics of Sherlock Holmeswas his power of throwing his brain out of action and switchingall his thoughts on to lighter things whenever he had convincedhimself that he could no longer work to advantage. I rememberthat during the whole of that memorable day he lost himself ina monograph which he had undertaken upon the PolyphonicMotets of Lassus. For my own part I had none of this powerof detachment, and the day, in consequence, appeared to beinterminable. The great national importance of the issue, thesuspense in high quarters, the direct nature of the experimentwhich we were trying—all combined to work upon my nerve. Itwas a relief to me when at last, after a light dinner, we set out uponour expedition. Lestrade and Mycroft met us by appointmentat the outside of Gloucester Road Station. The area door ofOberstein’s house had been left open the night before, and it wasnecessary for me, as Mycroft Holmes absolutely and indignantlydeclined to climb the railings, to pass in and open the hall door. Bynine o’clock we were all seated in the study, waiting patently forour man.
An hour passed and yet another. When eleven struck, themeasured beat of the great church clock seemed to sound thedirge of our hopes. Lestrade and Mycroft were fidgeting in theirseats and looking twice a minute at their watches. Holmes satsilent and composed, his eyelids half shut, but every sense on thealert. He raised his head with a sudden jerk.
“He is coming,” said he.
There had been a furtive step past the door. Now it returned.
We heard a shuffling sound outside, and then two sharp taps withthe knocker. Holmes rose, motioning to us to remain seated. Thegas in the hall was a mere point of light. He opened the outerdoor, and then as a dark figure slipped past him he closed andfastened it. “This way!” we heard him say, and a moment later ourman stood before us. Holmes had followed him closely, and asthe man turned with a cry of surprise and alarm he caught him bythe collar and threw him back into the room. Before our prisonerhad recovered his balance the door was shut and Holmes standingwith his back against it. The man glared round him, staggered, andfell senseless upon the floor. With the shock, his broad-brimmedhat flew from his head, his cravat slipped down from his lips, andthere were the long light beard and the soft, handsome delicatefeatures of Colonel Valentine Walter.
Holmes gave a whistle of surprise.
“You can write me down an ass this time, Watson,” said he. “Thiswas not the bird that I was looking for.”
“Who is he?” asked Mycroft eagerly.
“The younger brother of the late Sir James Walter, the head ofthe Submarine Department. Yes, yes; I see the fall of the cards. Heis coming to. I think that you had best leave his examination tome.”
We had carried the prostrate body to the sofa. Now our prisonersat up, looked round him with a horror-stricken face, and passedhis hand over his forehead, like one who cannot believe his ownsenses.
“What is this?” he asked. “I came here to visit Mr. Oberstein.”
“Everything is known, Colonel Walter,” said Holmes. “How anEnglish gentleman could behave in such a manner is beyond mycomprehension. But your whole correspondence and relationswith Oberstein are within our knowledge. So also are thecircumstances connected with the death of young Cadogan West.
Let me advise you to gain at least the small credit for repentanceand confession, since there are still some details which we canonly learn from your lips.”
The man groaned and sank his face in his hands. We waited, buthe was silent.
