“I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdomto have that photograph.”
“And for present expenses？”
The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under hiscloak and laid it on the table.
“There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred innotes，” he said.
Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book andhanded it to him.
“And Mademoiselle’s address？” he asked.
“Is Briony Lodge， Serpentine Avenue， St. John’s Wood.”
Holmes took a note of it. “One other question，” said he. “Wasthe photograph a cabinet？”
“It was.”
“Then， good-night， your Majesty， and I trust that we shall soonhave some good news for you. And good-night， Watson，” he added，as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. “If youwill be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o’clock Ishould like to chat this little matter over with you.”
II
At three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street， but Holmeshad not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he hadleft the house shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. I satdown beside the fire， however， with the intention of awaitinghim， however long he might be. I was already deeply interestedin his inquiry， for， though it was surrounded by none of the grimand strange features which were associated with the two crimeswhich I have already recorded， still， the nature of the case and theexalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. Indeed，apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend hadon hand， there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation，and his keen， incisive reasoning， which made it a pleasure to me tostudy his system of work， and to follow the quick， subtle methodsby which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. Soaccustomed was I to his invariable success that the very possibilityof his failing had ceased to enter into my head.
It was close upon four before the door opened， and a drunkenlookinggroom， ill-kempt and side-whiskered， with an inflamedface and disreputable clothes， walked into the room. Accustomedas I was to my friend’s amazing powers in the use of disguises， Ihad to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he.
With a nod he vanished into the bedroom， whence he emerged infive minutes tweed-suited and respectable， as of old. Putting hishands into his pockets， he stretched out his legs in front of the fireand laughed heartily for some minutes.
“Well， really！” he cried， and then he choked and laughed againuntil he was obliged to lie back， limp and helpless， in the chair.
“What is it？”
“It’s quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how Iemployed my morning， or what I ended by doing.”
“I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching thehabits， and perhaps the house， of Miss Irene Adler.”
“Quite so； but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you，however. I left the house a little after eight o’clock this morningin the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderfulsympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them，and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found BrionyLodge. It is a bijou villa， with a garden at the back， but built outin front right up to the road， two stories. Chubb lock to the door.
Large sitting-room on the right side， well furnished， with longwindows almost to the floor， and those preposterous Englishwindow fasteners which a child could open. Behind there wasnothing remarkable， save that the passage window could bereached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it andexamined it closely from every point of view， but without notinganything else of interest.
“I then lounged down the street and found， as I expected， thatthere was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of thegarden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses，and received in exchange twopence， a glass of half and half， twofills of shag tobacco， and as much information as I could desireabout Miss Adler， to say nothing of half a dozen other people inthe neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested， butwhose biographies I was compelled to listen to.”
“And what of Irene Adler？” I asked.
“Oh， she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. Sheis the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say theSerpentine-mews， to a man. She lives quietly， sings at concerts，drives out at five every day， and returns at seven sharp for dinner.
Seldom goes out at other times， except when she sings. Has onlyone male visitor， but a good deal of him. He is dark， handsome，and dashing， never calls less than once a day， and often twice. He isa Mr. Godfrey Norton， of the Inner Temple. See the advantages ofa cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen timesfrom Serpentine-mews， and knew all about him. When I hadlistened to all they had to tell， I began to walk up and down nearBriony Lodge once more， and to think over my plan of campaign.
“This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in thematter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was therelation between them， and what the object of his repeated visits？
Was she his client， his friend， or his mistress？ If the former， shehad probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If thelatter， it was less likely. On the issue of this question dependedwhether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge， or turn myattention to the gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was adelicate point， and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear thatI bore you with these details， but I have to let you see my littledifficulties， if you are to understand the situation.”
“I am following you closely，” I answered.
“I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cabdrove up to Briony Lodge， and a gentleman sprang out. He wasa remarkably handsome man， dark， aquiline， and moustached—evidently the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be ina great hurry， shouted to the cabman to wait， and brushed pastthe maid who opened the door with the air of a man who wasthoroughly at home.
