"I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The matterwas perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in thestreet was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening."
"I guessed as much."
"Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint inthe palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my handto my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick."
"That also I could fathom."
"Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What elsecould she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very roomwhich I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I wasdetermined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned forair, they were compelled to open the window, and you had yourchance."
"How did that help you?"
"It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is onfire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which shevalues most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I havemore than once taken advantage of it. In the case of theDarlington substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also inthe Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby;an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear tome that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more preciousto her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it.The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting wereenough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. Thephotograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above theright bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught aglimpse of it as she half-drew it out. When I cried out that itwas a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushedfrom the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, makingmy excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether toattempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman hadcome in, and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer towait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all."
"And now?" I asked.
"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the Kingto-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will beshown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it isprobable that when she comes she may find neither us nor thephotograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regainit with his own hands."
"And when will you call?"
"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shallhave a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriagemay mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire tothe King without delay."
We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He wassearching his pockets for the key when someone passing said:
"Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes."
There were several people on the pavement at the time, but thegreeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who hadhurried by.
"I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down thedimly lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could havebeen."
III.
I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon ourtoast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushedinto the ro
om.
"You have really got it!" he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes byeither shoulder and looking eagerly into his face.
"Not yet."
"But you have hopes?"
"I have hopes."
"Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone."
"We must have a cab."
"No, my brougham is waiting."
"Then that will simplify matters." We descended and started offonce more for Briony Lodge.
"Irene Adler is married," remarked Holmes.
"Married! When?"
"Yesterday."
"But to whom?"