The Prime Minister nodded his acquiescence.
"I believe you are right, Mr. Holmes. He would take so valuable a prizeto head-quarters with his own hands. I think that your course of actionis an excellent one. Meanwhile, Hope, we cannot neglect all our otherduties on account of this one misfortune. Should there be any freshdevelopments during the day we shall communicate with you, and you willno doubt let us know the results of your own inquiries."
The two statesmen bowed and walked gravely from the room.
When our illustrious visitors had departed Holmes lit his pipe insilence, and sat for some time lost in the deepest thought. I had openedthe morning paper and was immersed in a sensational crime which hadoccurred in London the night before, when my friend gave an exclamation,sprang to his feet, and laid his pipe down upon the mantelpiece.
"Yes," said he, "there is no better way of approaching it. The situationis desperate, but not hopeless. Even now, if we could be sure which ofthem has taken it, it is just possible that it has not yet passed out ofhis hands. After all, it is a question of money with these fellows, andI have the British Treasury behind me. If it's on the market I'll buyit--if it means another penny on the income-tax. It is conceivablethat the fellow might hold it back to see what bids come from thisside before he tries his luck on the other. There are only those threecapable of playing so bold a game; there are Oberstein, La Rothiere, andEduardo Lucas. I will see each of them."
I glanced at my morning paper.
"Is that Eduardo Lucas of Godolphin Street?"
"Yes."
"You will not see him."
"Why not?"
"He was murdered in his house last night."
My friend has so often astonished me in the course of our adventuresthat it was with a sense of exultation that I realized how completely Ihad astonished him. He stared in amazement, and then snatched thepaper from my hands. This was the paragraph which I had been engaged inreading when he rose from his chair:--
"MURDER IN WESTMINSTER.
"A crime of mysterious character was committed last night at 16,Godolphin Street, one of the old-fashioned and secluded rows ofeighteenth-century houses which lie between the river and the Abbey,almost in the shadow of the great Tower of the Houses of Parliament.This small but select mansion has been inhabited for some years by Mr.Eduardo Lucas, well known in society circles both on account of hischarming personality and because he has the well-deserved reputationof being one of the best amateur tenors in the country. Mr. Lucas is anunmarried man, thirty-four years of age, and his establishment consistsof Mrs. Pringle, an elderly housekeeper, and of Mitton, his valet. Theformer retires early and sleeps at the top of the house. The valet wasout for the evening, visiting a friend at Hammersmith. From ten o'clockonwards Mr. Lucas had the house to himself. What occurred during thattime has not yet transpired, but at a quarter to twelve Police-constableBarrett, passing along Godolphin Street, observed that the door of No.16 was ajar.
He knocked, but received no answer. Perceiving a lightin the front room he advanced into the passage and again knocked, butwithout reply. He then pushed open the door and entered. The room was ina state of wild disorder, the furniture being all swept to one side, andone chair lying on its back in the centre. Beside this chair, and stillgrasping one of its legs, lay the unfortunate tenant of the house. Hehad been stabbed to the heart and must have died instantly. The knifewith which the crime had been committed was a curved Indian dagger,plucked down from a trophy of Oriental arms which adorned one of thewalls. Robbery does not appear to have been the motive of the crime, forthere had been no attempt to remove the valuable contents of the room.Mr. Eduardo Lucas was so well known and popular that his violent andmysterious fate will arouse painful interest and intense sympathy in awide-spread circle of friends."
"Well, Watson, what do you make of this?" asked Holmes, after a longpause.
"It is an amazing coincidence."
"A coincidence! Here is one of the three men whom we had named aspossible actors in this drama, and he meets a violent death during thevery hours when we know that that drama was being enacted. The odds areenormous against its being coincidence. No figures could express them.No, my dear Watson, the two events are connected--MUST be connected. Itis for us to find the connection."
"But now the official police must know all."
"Not at all. They know all they see at Godolphin Street. They know--andshall know--nothing of Whitehall Terrace. Only WE know of both events,and can trace the relation between them. There is one obvious pointwhich would, in any case, have turned my suspicions against Lucas.Godolphin Street, Westminster, is only a few minutes' walk fromWhitehall Terrace. The other secret agents whom I have named live inthe extreme West-end. It was easier, therefore, for Lucas than for theothers to establish a connection or receive a message from theEuropean Secretary's household--a small thing, and yet where events arecompressed into a few hours it may prove essential. Halloa! what have wehere?"
Mrs. Hudson had appeared with a lady's card upon her salver. Holmesglanced at it, raised his eyebrows, and handed it over to me.
"Ask Lady Hilda Trelawney Hope if she will be kind enough to step up,"said he.
A moment later our modest apartment, already so distinguished thatmorning, was further honoured by the entrance of the most lovely womanin London. I had often heard of the beauty of the youngest daughter ofthe Duke of Belminster, but no description of it, and no contemplationof colourless photographs, had prepared me for the subtle, delicatecharm and the beautiful colouring of that exquisite head. And yet aswe saw it that autumn morning, it was not its beauty which would be thefirst thing to impress the observer. The cheek was lovely, but it waspaled with emotion; the eyes were bright, but it was the brightnessof fever; the sensitive mouth was tight and drawn in an effort afterself-command. Terror--not beauty--was what sprang first to the eye asour 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." Holmesbowed coldly, and motioned the lady to a chair.
"Your ladyship places me in a very delicate position. I beg that youwill sit down and tell me what you desire; but I fear that I cannot makeany unconditional promise."
She swept across the room and seated herself with her back to thewindow. It was a queenly presence--tall, graceful, and intenselywomanly.
"Mr. Holmes," she said, and her white-gloved hands clasped and unclaspedas she spoke--"I will speak frankly to you in the hope that it mayinduce you to speak frankly in return. There is complete confidencebetween my husband and me on all matters save one. That one is politics.On this his lips are sealed. He tells me nothing. Now, I am aware thatthere was a most deplorable occurrence in our house last night. I knowthat a paper has disappeared. But because the matter is political myhusband refuses to take me into his complete confidence. Now it isessential--essential, I say--that I should thoroughly understand it. Youare the only other person, save only these politicians, who knows thetrue facts. I beg you, then, Mr. Holmes, to tell me exactly what hashappened and what it will lead to. Tell me all, Mr. Holmes. Let noregard for your client's interests keep you silent, for I assure youthat his interests, if he would only see it, would be best served bytaking me into his complete confidence. What was this paper which wasstolen?"
"Madam, what you ask me is really impossible."