(Enter BILLY, showing in DR. WATSON.)
WATSON: I particularly want to see Mr. Holmes.
BILLY: Well, sir, I expect he will be back almost immediately.
WATSON: Is he very busy just now?
BILLY: Yes, sir, we are very busy. We don't get much time to ourselves these days.
WATSON: Any particular case?
BILLY: Quite a number of cases, sir. Two German princes and the Duchess of Ferrers yesterday. The Pope's been bothering us again. Wants us to go to Rome over the cameo robbery. We are very overworked.
WATSON: Well, I'll wait for Mr. Holmes.
BILLY: Very good, sir. Here is The Times. There's four for him in the waiting- room now.
WATSON: Any lady among them?
BILLY: Not what I would call a lady, sir.
WATSON: All right, I'll wait. (Lights a cigarette and looks around him.) Just the same as ever. There are the old chemicals! Heavens! what have I not endured from those chemicals in the old days? Pistol practice on the wall. Quite so. I wonder if he still keeps tobacco in that Persian slipper? Yes, here it is. And his pipes in the coal- scuttle—black clays. Full of them—the same as ever. (Takes one out and smells it.) Faugh! Bottle of cocaine—Billy, Billy!
BILLY: I've done my best to break him of it, sir.
WATSON: All right, Billy, you can go.
(BILLY goes out.)
There's the old violin—the same old violin, with one string left. (Sits on settee.)
(Enter SHERLOCK HOLMES, disguised as a workman, with tools.)
HOLMES: You sent for me, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
WATSON: I am not Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: Beg pardon, sir, it was to mend the gas-bracket.
WATSON: What's wrong with it?
HOLMES: Leaking sir.
WATSON: Well go on with your work.
HOLMES: Yes, sir. (Goes to the bracket.) Hope I won't disturb you sir?
WATSON (taking up "The Times"): That's all right Don't mind me.
HOLMES: Very untidy man Mr. Holmes sir.
WATSON: What do you mean by that?
HOLMES: Well, sir, you can't help noticing it. It's all over the room. I've 'eard say he was as tidy as any when he started, but he learned bad 'abits from a cove what lived with him. Watson was his name.
(Slips into bedroom.)
WATSON (rising): You impertinent fellow! How dare you talk in such a fashion? What do you want? (Looks round.) Why! wha' deuce has become of him?
(The workman emerges as SHERLOCK HOLMES, in dressing-gown with hands in pockets.)
Good Heavens Holmes! I should never have recognized you.
HOLMES: My dear Watson when you begin to recognize me it will indeed be the beginning of the end. When your eagle eye penetrates my disguise I shall retire to an eligible poultry farm.
WATSON: But why—?
HOLMES: A case my dear Watson a case! One of those small conundrums which a trustful public occasionally confides to my investigation. To the British workman, Watson, all doors are open. His costume is unostentatious and his habits are sociable. A tool bag is an excellent passport and a tawny moustache will secure the co-operation of the maids. It may interest you to know that my humble double is courting a cook at Battersea. (Strikes match and lights pipe.)
WATSON: My dear Holmes! Is it fair to the girl?
HOLMES: Chivalrous old Watson! It's a game of life and death, and every card must be played! But in this case I have a hated rival—the constable on the adjoining beat—so when I disappear, all will readjust itself. We walk out on Saturday evenings. Oh! those walks! But the honour of a Duchess is at stake. A mad world, my masters. (Turns to survey WATSON.) Well, Watson, what is your news?
WATSON (smiling): Well, Holmes, I came here to tell you what I am sure will please you.
HOLMES: Engaged, Watson, engaged! Your coat, your hat, your gloves, your buttonhole, your smile, your blush! The successful suitor shines from you all over. What I had heard of you or perhaps what I had not heard of you, had already excited my worst suspicions. (Looks fixedly at WATSON.) But this is better and better, for I begin to perceive that it is a young lady whom I know and respect.
WATSON: But, Holmes, this is marvellous. The lady is Miss Morstan, whom you have indeed met and admired. But how could you tell—
HOLMES: By the same observation, my dear Watson, which assures me that you have seen the lady this morning. (Picks a hair off WATSON'S breast, wraps it round his finger, and glances at it with his lens.) Charming, my dear fellow, charming. There is no mistaking the Titian tint. You lucky fellow! I envy you.
WATSON: Thank you, Holmes. Some of these days I may find myself congratulating you.
HOLMES: No marriage without love, Watson.
WATSON: Then why not love? (Placing his hand on HOLMES'S shoulders.)
HOLMES: Absurd, Watson, absurd! I am not for love, nor love for me. It would disturb my reason, unbalance my faculties. Love is like a flaw in the crystal, sand in the clockwork, iron near the magnet. No, no, I have other work in the world.
WATSON: You have, indeed. Billy says you are very busy just now.
HOLMES: There are one or two small matters.
WATSON: Have you room to consider one other—the case of Miss Enid Stonor?
HOLMES: My dear fellow, if you have any personal interest in it. (Sitting on divan.)
WATSON: Yes, I feel keenly about it.
HOLMES (taking out note-book): Let us see how I stand. There is the Baxter Square murder—I have put the police on the track. The Clerkenwell Jewel Robbery—that is now clearing. The case of the Duchess of Ferrers—I have my material. The Pope's cameos. His Holiness must wait. The Princess who is about to run from home—let her run. I must see one or two who are waiting for me—(rings bell)—then I am entirely at your disposal.
(Enter BILLY.)
BILLY: Yes, Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: How many are waiting?
BILLY: Three, sir.
HOLMES: A light morning. Show them in now.
(BILLY goes out.)
WATSON: Well, I'll look in later.
HOLMES (striking match and lighting pipe): No, no, my dear fellow! I have always looked on you as a partner in the Firm—Holmes, Watson, Billy & Co. That's our brass plate when we raise one. If you'll sit there I shall soon be free.
(Enter BILLY, with a card on tray. MR HOLT LOAMING follows, a rich, dissipated-looking, middle-aged man in an astrakhan-collared coat. BILLY goes out.)
HOLMES: (reading): Mr. Holt Loaming. I remember the name. A racing man, I believe?
LOAMING: Yes, sir.
HOLMES: Pray take a seat.
(LOAMING draws up near the table.)
What can I do for you?
LOAMING: Time's money, Mr. Holmes, both yours and mine. I'm pretty quick off the mark, and you won't mind that. I'm not here on the advice gratis line. Don't you think it. I've my cheque book here—(takes it out)—and there's plenty behind it. I won't grudge you your fee, Mr. Holmes. I promise you that.
HOLMES: Well, Mr. Loaming, let us hear the business.
LOAMING: My wife, Mr. Holmes—damn her!—she's given me the slip. Got back to her own people and they've hid her. There's the law, of course, but she'd get out all kinds of lies about ill-treatment. She's mine, and I'll just take her when I know where to lay my hands on her.
HOLMES: How would you take her?
LOAMING: I just have to walk up to her and beckon. She's one of those wincing kind of nervous fillies that kick about in the paddock but give in when once the bridle's on them and they feel the whip. You show me where she is, and I'll do the rest.
HOLMES: She is with her own people, you say?
LOAMING: Well, there's no man in the case, if that's what you're driving at. Lord! if you knew how straight she is, and how she carries on when I have a fling. She's got a cluster of aunts, and she's lyin' low somewhere among them. It's for you to put her up.
HOLMES: I fancy not, Mr. Loaming.
LOAMING: Eh? What's that?
HOLMES: I rather like to think of her among that cluster of aunts.
LOAMING: But, damn it, sir, she's my wife.
HOLMES: That's why!
LOAMING (getting up): Well, it's a rum start, this. Look here, you don't know what you're missing. I'd have gone to five hundred. Here's the cheque.
HOLMES: The case does not attract me. (Rings bell.)
(Enter BILLY.)
Show Mr. Loaming out, Billy.
LOAMING: It's the last you'll see of me, Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: Life is full of little consolations.
LOAMING: Damn!
(He takes his hat and goes out with BILLY.)
HOLMES: I'm afraid I shall never be a rich man, Watson.
(Re-enter BILLY.)
Well?
BILLY: Mr. James B. Montague, sir.
(Enter MONTAGUE, as BILLY goes out.)
HOLMES: Good morning, Mr. Montague. Pray take a chair.
(MONTAGUE sits.)
What can I do?
MONTAGUE (a furtive-looking man with slimy ways): Anything fresh about the sudden death of my brother, sir? The police said it was murder, and you said it was murder; but we don't get any further, do we? (Placing hat on floor.)
HOLMES: I have not lost sight of it.
MONTAGUE: That man Henderson was a bad man, Holmes, an evil liver and a corruption. Yes, sir, a corruption a danger. Who knows what passed between them? I've suspicions—I've always had my suspicions.
HOLMES: So you said.
MONTAGUE: Have you worked any further on that line, sir? Because, if you tell me from time to time how it is shaping, I may be able to give you a word in season.
HOLMES: I have my eye on him—a very cunning rascal, as you say. We have not enough to arrest him on, but we work away in the hope.
MONTAGUE: Good, Mr. Holmes, good! Watch him; you'll get him, as safe as Judgment.
HOLMES: I'll let you know if anything comes of it. (Rings.)
MONTAGUE (rising): That's right, sir. Watch 'im. I'm his brother, sir. It's me that should know. It's never out of my mind.
(Enter BILLY.)
HOLMES: Very good, Mr. Montague. Good-morning.
(MONTAGUE and BILLY go out.)
Curious little murder, Watson; done for most inadequate motive. That was the murderer.
WATSON: Good Heavens!
HOLMES: My case is almost complete. Meanwhile I amuse him and myself by the pretended pursuit of the wrong man—an ancient device, Watson.
(Re-enter BILLY.)
Well, any more?
BILLY: Mr. Milverton is here, Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: Show him in when I ring.
(BILLY goes out.)
I am sorry to delay the business upon which you wished to consult me; but this, I hope, will be the last. You remember Milverton?
WATSON: No.
HOLMES: Ah! it was after your time. The most crawling reptile in London —the King of the Blackmailers—a cunning, ruthless devil. I have traced seventeen suicides to that man's influence. It is he who is after the Duchess of Ferrers.
WATSON: The beautiful Duchess, whose re-marriage is announced?
HOLMES: Exactly. He has a letter which he thinks would break off the wedding. (Rings.) It is my task to regain it.
(Enter MILVERTON.)
HOLMES: Well, Mr. Milverton. Pray take a seat.
MILVERTON: Who is this?
HOLMES: My friend, Dr. Watson. Do you mind?
MILVERTON (sitting): Oh! I have no object in secrecy. It is your client's reputation, not mine, which is at stake.
HOLMES: Your reputation! Good Heavens! (Crossing to fireplace and filling pipe from slipper.)
MILVERTON: Not much to lose there, is there, Mr. Holmes? I can't be hurt. But she can. Hardly a fair fight, is it?
HOLMES: What are the terms now? (Filling pipe.)
MILVERTON: Steady at seven thousand. No money—no marriage.
HOLMES: Suppose she tells the whole story to the Marquis? Then your letter is not worth sixpence. He would condone all. Come, now, what harm is in the letter?
MILVERTON: Sprightly—very sprightly. However, it is purely a matter of business. If you think it is in the best interests of your client that the Marquis should see the letter—why, you would be very foolish to pay a large sum to regain it.
HOLMES: The lady has no great resources.
MILVERTON: But her marriage is a most suitable time for her friends and relations to make some little effort. I can assure you that this envelope would give more joy than all the tiaras and bracelets in Regent Street.
HOLMES: No, it is impossible!
MILVERTON: Dear me! Dear me! How unfortunate.
HOLMES: It can profit you in no way to push matters to an end.
MILVERTON: There you mistake. I have other cases maturing. If it were known that I had been severe on the Duchess the others would be more open to reason.
HOLMES: Well, well, you give us till noon to-morrow? (Rings.)
MILVERTON: But not an hour longer.
(Enter BILLY.)
HOLMES: We are at your mercy. Surely you won't treat us too harshly?
MILVERTON: Not a minute longer. (Putting on hat.)
(BILLY and MILVERTON go out.)
Terrible! Terrible! A fumigator would be useful, eh, Watson – Pah!
WATSON: What can you do?
HOLMES: My dear Watson—what have I done? It is this gentleman's cook who has honoured me. In the intervals of philandering, I have made an acquaintance with the lock on the safe. Mr. Milverton spent last night at his club; when he returns home he will find there has been a little burglary at The Battersea, and his precious letter is missing. (Rings.)
WATSON: Holmes, you are splendid!
(Enter BILLY.)
HOLMES: Tut, tut! (To BILLY.) Well, any more?
BILLY: One lady, sir—just come—Miss Enid Stonor, of Stoke Moran.
WATSON: Ah! this is the case. (Rising.)
HOLMES: I'll ring, Billy.
(BILLY goes out.)
Now, Watson! Stonor! Stonor! Surely I associate the name with something?
WATSON: I told you of the case at the time. Sudden mysterious death of a girl at an old house in Stoke Moran, some two years ago.
HOLMES: My dear fellow! it all comes back to me. An inquest was it not, with a string of most stupid and ineffectual witnesses.
WATSON: I was one of them.
HOLMES: Of course—so you were, so you were. I docketed the evidence. It introduced to my notice a gentleman of singular and most interesting personality. I have a few notes. (Takes down a scrapbook from a row.) Let's see—it's R—Ranter—Roma – Rylott! That's our man. Fifty-five years of age, killed his khitmutgar in India; once in a madhouse, married money—wife died—distinguished surgeon. Well, Watson, what has the distinguished surgeon been up to now? (Throwing scrapbook on divan.)
WATSON: Devilry, I fear.
HOLMES: I have the case very clear in my mind.
WATSON: Then you may remember that the death of the lady followed close upon her engagement?
HOLMES: Exactly.
WATSON: Miss Enid Stonor in turn became engaged, about a month ago, to a neighbour, Lieutenant Curtis.
HOLMES: Ah!
WATSON: Unhappily, the young man leaves for the Mediterranean to- day. She will henceforward be alone at Stoke Moran.
HOLMES: I see.
WATSON: And some circumstances have excited her alarm.
HOLMES: I gather that the amiable stepfather stands to lose in case of a marriage.
WATSON: That is so. Of course, supposing that Rylott did the other girl to death, it seems unlikely, on the face of it, that he would try it on again, as two sudden deaths in the house could hardly pass the coroner—
HOLMES: No, no, Watson! you are making the mistake of putting your normal brain into Rylott's abnormal being. The born criminal is often a monstrous egotist. His mind is unhinged from the beginning. What he wants he must have. Because he thinks a thing, it is right. Because he does a thing, it will escape detection. You can't say a priori that he will take this view or that one. Perhaps we had best have the young lady in. (Rings bell.) My dear fellow, you'll get into trouble if you go about righting the wrongs of distressed damsels. It won't do, Watson, it really won't.
(Enter ENID. WATSON gets up and meets her.)
WATSON: How do you do, Miss Enid? This is my friend, Mr. Holmes, of whom I spoke.
(HOLMES shakes hands with ENID.)
HOLMES: How do you do, Miss Stonor? Dear me! you must find a dog- cart a cold conveyance in this weather.
ENID: A dog-cart, Mr. Holmes?
HOLMES: One can hardly fail to observe the tell-tale splashes on the left sleeve. A white horse and clay soil are indicated. But what is this? You are trembling. Do sit down.
ENID (looking round and sitting on settee): Tell me, Mr. Holmes, my stepfather has not been here?
HOLMES: No.
ENID: He saw me in the street. I dashed past him in a cab. he saw me; our eyes met, and he waved me to stop.
HOLMES: Why is your stepfather in London?
ENID: He came up on business.
HOLMES: It would be interesting to know what the business was.
ENID: It was to get a new butler. Rodgers, our old one, leave us, and a new butler is to come at once. I doubt if any servant would come to such a place.
HOLMES: He may certainly find some difficulty. He would, no doubt, apply to an agent.
ENID: At two o'clock, to Patterson and Green, of Cavendish Street.
HOLMES: Exactly. I know them. But this is a digression, is it not? We get back to the fact that he saw you in the street?
ENID: Yes, it was in Pall Mall. I fancy he followed me.
HOLMES: Would he imagine you would come here?
ENID: No, he would think I was going to Dr. Watson's. He knows that Dr. Watson is my only friend in London.
HOLMES: What has been Dr. Ryolott's attitude towards you your engagement?
ENID: He has been much kinder, because he knows I have one to protect me. But even so, there are moments— (Raises her arm.)
HOLMES: Good Heavens!
ENID: He does not realize his own strength. When he is angry he is like a fierce wild beast. Only last week he thrashed the blacksmith.
HOLMES: He is welcome to the blacksmith, but not to my clients. This must not occur again. Does your fiancé know of this?
ENID: I would not dare to tell him. He would do something dreadful. Besides, as I say, my stepfather has, on the whole, been kinder. But there is a look in his eyes, when I turn on him suddenly, that chills me to the bone. His kindness is from his head, not from his heart. I feel as if he were waiting—waiting—
HOLMES: Waiting for what?
ENID: Waiting for my fiancé to leave. Waiting till he has me at his mercy. That room freezes my blood. Often I cannot sleep for horror.
WATSON: What? He has changed your room? (Rising from armchair.)
ENID: My old room is under repair.
WATSON: You sleep, then, in the room where your sister died?
ENID: In the same room. And other things have happened. The music has come again.
HOLMES: The music? Tell me about this music.
ENID: It came before my sister's death. She spoke of it, and then I heard it myself the night she died. But it has come again. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I am terrified.
HOLMES: There, there! you've had enough to break any one's nerve. This —music—does it seem to be inside the house or outside?
ENID: Indeed, I could not say.
HOLMES: What is it like?
ENID: A sort of soft, droning sound.
HOLMES: Like a flute or pipe?
ENID: Yes. It reminds me of my childhood in India.
HOLMES: Ah—India?
ENID: And there's one other thing that puzzles me—my sister's dying words—as she lay in my arms she gasped out two words.
HOLMES: What were they?
ENID: "Band" and "Speckled."
HOLMES: Band—speckled—and Indian music. You sleep with your door and window fastened?
ENID: Yes, but so did poor Violet. It did not save her, and it may not save me.
HOLMES: Could there be anything in the nature of secret doors or panels?
ENID: No. I have searched again and again. There is nothing.
HOLMES: And nothing peculiar in the room?
ENID: No, I cannot say there is.
HOLMES: I must really drop in and have a look at this most interesting apartment. Suggestive—very suggestive. (Pause) When did you hear this music last?
ENID: Last night.
HOLMES: And your fiancé leaves to-day?
ENID: He leaves to-day. What shall I do?
HOLMES: Well, Miss Stonor, I take up your case. It presents features which commend it to me. You must put yourself into my hands.
ENID: I do—unreservedly. (Rising, and crossing to him.)
HOLMES (to Watson): It is a question whether we are justified in letting her return at all to Stoke Moran.
ENID: I must return. At five o'clock my fiancé leaves, and I shall not see him again for months.
HOLMES: Ah! that is a complication. Where is the A.B.C.? (Finds it in umbrella stand.) Stonehouse—Stowell—Stoke—
ENID: I know my train, Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: I was looking for mine.
ENID: You are coming down?
HOLMES: I shall not be content until I have seen this room of yours. Yes, that will do. I could get up to you between eleven and twelve, to- night. Would you have the goodness to leave your shutter open? The room is, I understand, upon the ground floor?
ENID: Oh! Mr. Holmes, it is not safe. You cannot think of the danger.
HOLMES: I have taken up your case, Miss Stonor, and this is part of it. Have you any friends in Stoke Moran?
ENID: Mr. Armitage and his wife.
HOLMES: That is most fortunate. Now, listen to me, Miss Stonor. When you have returned home certain circumstances may arise which will ensure your safety. In that case you will at Stoke Place until I come in the evening. On the other hand, things may miscarry, and you may not be safe. In that case I will so manage that a warning will reach you. You will then break from home and take refuge with the Armitages. Is that clear?
ENID: Who will bring me the warning?
HOLMES: I cannot say. But you have my assurance that it will come.
ENID: Then, until it does, I will stay at Stoke Place.
HOLMES: And should any new development occur you could always send me a telegram, could you not?
ENID: Yes, I could do that.
HOLMES: Then it is not goodbye, but au revoir.
(Enter BILLY.)
What is it?
BILLY: Please, Mr. Holmes, a gentleman to see you, at once.
HOLMES: Who is he?
BILLY: A very impatient gentleman, sir. It was all I could do to get him to stay in the waiting-room.
ENID: Is he tall, dark, with a black beard, and a long white scar on his cheek?
BILLY: That's him, Miss.
ENID: Oh, Mr. Holmes, what shall I do? He has followed me.
WATSON: If he went to my rooms, my landlady had instructions to send any one on here.
HOLMES: Exactly.
ENID: Oh! I dare not meet him, I dare not. Can't I slip out somehow?
HOLMES: I see no reason why you should stay. Billy, show the lady out by the side passage.
BILLY: Don't be alarmed, Miss, I'll see you through.
(BILLY and ENID go out.)
WATSON: This fellow is dangerous, Holmes. You may need a weapon.
HOLMES: There's something of the kind in that drawer at your right.
(Enter BILLY.)
BILLY: Shall I stay when I show him in, Mr. Holmes?
HOLMES: Why so?
BILLY: An ugly customer, Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: Tut, tut! show him up.
(BILLY goes out.)
Well, Watson I must thank you for a most interesting morning. You are certainly the stormy petrel of crime.
(Enter DR RYLOTT)
RYLOTT: This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes I believe.
HOLMES: Your belief is justified.
RYLOTT: I have reason to think that you have taken unsolicited interest in my affairs.
HOLMES: Your name being—?
RYLOTT: My name, sir, is Grimesby Rylott—Doctor Grimesby Rylott, of Stoke Moran. (Throws down card.)
HOLMES: A pretty place, I hear! And obviously good for the lungs.
RYLOTT: Sir, you are trifling with me. I have come here to ask whether you have had a visit from my stepdaughter, Miss Enid Stonor—
HOLMES: The first law in my profession, Doctor, is never to answer questions.
RYLOTT: Sir, you shall answer me.
HOLMES: We could do with warmer weather.
RYLOTT: I insist upon an answer.
HOLMES: But I hear the crocuses are coming on.
RYLOTT: Curse your crocuses! I've heard of you, you meddling busybody. And you, Dr. Watson—I expected to find you here. What do you mean by interfering with my lawful affairs?
WATSON: So long as they are lawful, Dr. Rylott, no one is likely to interfere with them.
RYLOTT: Now look here, Mr. Holmes, perhaps I may seem to you a little hot- headed—
HOLMES: Dear me, Dr. Rylott, what put that idea into your head?
RYLOTT: I apologize if I have seemed rude—(Sitting)
HOLMES: Robust—a little robust—nothing more.
RYLOTT: I wish to put the matter to you as man to man. You know what girls are, how sudden and unreasonable their prejudices may be. Imagine, sir, how hurt I should feel to be distrusted by one whom I have loved.
HOLMES: You have my deep sympathy, Dr. Rylott.
RYLOTT (pleased): Ah!
HOLMES: You are a most unfortunate man. There was that tragedy two years ago—
RYLOTT: Yes, indeed!
HOLMES: I think I could help you in that matter.
RYLOTT: How so?
HOLMES: As a friend, and without a fee.
RYLOTT: You are very good.
HOLMES: I am very busy, but your case seems so hard that I will put everything aside to assist you.
RYLOTT: In what way, sir?
HOLMES: I will come down at once, examine the room in which the tragedy occurred, and see if such small faculties as I possess can throw any light upon the matter.
RYLOTT: Sir, this is an intolerable liberty. (Rising.)
HOLMES: What! you don't want help?
RYLOTT: It is intolerable, I say. What I ask you to do—what I order you to do is to leave my affairs alone. Alone, sir—do you hear me?
HOLMES: You are perfectly audible.
RYLOTT: I'll have no interference—none! Don't dare to meddle with me. D'you hear, the pair of you? You—Holmes, I'm warning you.
HOLMES (looking at his watch): I fear I must end this interview. Time flies when one is chatting. Life has its duties as well as its pleasures, Doctor.
RYLOTT: Insolent rascal! I'll—I'll—(Turns to the grate and picks up the poker.)
(WATSON jumps up.)
HOLMES: No, Watson, no! It does need poking, but perhaps you would put on a few coals first.
RYLOTT: You laugh at me? You don't know the man you are dealing with. You think that my strength fails because my hair is turned. I was the strongest man in India once. See that! (Bends the poker and throws it down at HOLMES' feet.) I am not a safe man to play with, Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: Nor am I a safe man to play with, Dr. Rylott. Let me see – what were we talking about before the Sandow performance?
RYLOTT: You shall not overcrow me with your insolence! I tell you now, and you, too, Dr. Watson, that you interfere with my affairs to your own danger. You have your warning.
HOLMES: I'll make a note of it.
RYLOTT: And you refuse to tell me if Miss Stonor has been here?
HOLMES: Don't we seem to be travelling just a little in a circle?
RYLOTT (picking up hat from table): Well, you can't prevent me from finding out from her.
HOLMES: Ah! there I must talk a little seriously to you Grimesby Rylott. You have mentioned this young lady, and I know something of her circumstances. I hold you responsible. My eye is on you sir and the Lord help you—the Lord help you if any harm befall her. Now leave this room, and take my warning with you.
RYLOTT: You cursed fool! I may teach you both not to meddle with what does not concern you. Keep clear of Stoke Moran!
(RYLOTT goes out slamming the door)
HOLMES: I had a presentiment he would slam the door.
(WATSON rises.)
Stoke Moran must be less dull than many country villages. Quite a breezy old gentleman Watson. Well I must thank you for a pretty problem. What the exact danger may be which destroyed one sister and now threatens the other may be suspected, but cannot yet be defined. That is why I must visit the room.
WATSON: I will come with you Holmes.
HOLMES: My dear fellow you are no longer an unattached knight- errant. Dangerous quests are forbidden. What would Morstan say?
WATSON: She would say that the man who would desert his friend would never make a good husband.
HOLMES: Well, my dear Watson, it may be our last adventure together, so I welcome your co-operation.
WATSON: Well, I'll be off.
HOLMES: You will leave Victoria to night at eleven fifteen, for Stoke Moran.
WATSON: Good bye—I'll see you at the station.
HOLMES: Perhaps you will.
(WATSON goes.)
Perhaps you will! (Rings.) Perhaps you won't! (Stands near fire.)
(Enter BILLY.)
BILLY: Yes, sir.
HOLMES: Ever been in love Billy?
BILLY: Not of late years, sir.
HOLMES: Too busy, eh?
BILLY: Yes, Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: Same here. Got my bag there, Billy?
BILLY: Yes, sir. (Puts it on table.)
HOLMES: Put in that revolver.
BILLY: Yes, sir.
HOLMES: And the pipe and pouch.
BILLY (takes it from table): Yes, sir.
HOLMES: Got the dark lantern?
BILLY: Yes, sir.
HOLMES: The lens and the tape?
BILLY: Yes, sir.
HOLMES: Plaster of Paris, for prints?
BILLY: Yes, sir.
HOLMES: Oh, and the cocaine. (Hands it.)
BILLY: Yes, sir. (Throws it down.)
HOLMES: You young villain! you've broken it. (Takes his ear and turns his head round.) You're a clever boy, Billy.
BILLY: Yes, Mr. Holmes.
CURTAIN.