DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
are but preventing her from injuring another.

Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who
is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At
the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed
my rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!" The word was no sooner
out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and
ill--gentlemen, ostlers, and servant-maids--joined in a general
shriek of "Fire!" Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and
out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a
moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it
was a false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way
to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find
my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He
walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had
turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware
Road.

"You did it very nicely, Doctor," he remarked. "Nothing could have
been better. It is all right."

"You have the photograph?"

"I know where it is."

"And how did you find out?"

"She showed me, as I told you she would."

"I am still in the dark."

"I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The matter was
perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street 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 in the
palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to 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 else
could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room
which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was
determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air,
they were compelled to open the window, and you had your chance."

"How did that help you?"

"It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire,
her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most.
It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once
taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington substitution
scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle
business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches
for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had
nothing in the house more precious to 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 were enough to shake nerves of steel.
She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a
sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an
instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out. When I
cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the
rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose,
and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether
to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had
come in, and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer to wait.
A little over-precipitance may ruin all."

"And now?" I asked.

"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King
to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be
shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable
that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It
might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own
hands."

"And when will you call?"

"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a
clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a
complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King
without delay."

We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was
searching 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 the
greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had
hurried by.

"I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the dimly
lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been."

are but preventing her from injuring another.

Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who

is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At

the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed

my rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!" The word was no sooner

out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and

ill--gentlemen, ostlers, and servant-maids--joined in a general

shriek of "Fire!" Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and

out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a

moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it

was a false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way

to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find

my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He

walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had

turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware

Road.

"You did it very nicely, Doctor," he remarked. "Nothing could have

been better. It is all right."

"You have the photograph?"

"I know where it is."

"And how did you find out?"

"She showed me, as I told you she would."

"I am still in the dark."

"I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The matter was

perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street 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 in the

palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to 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 else

could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room

which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was

determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air,

they were compelled to open the window, and you had your chance."

"How did that help you?"

"It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire,

her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most.

It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once

taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington substitution

scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle

business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches

for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had

nothing in the house more precious to 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 were enough to shake nerves of steel.

She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a

sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an

instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out. When I

cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the

rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose,

and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether

to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had

come in, and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer to wait.

A little over-precipitance may ruin all."

"And now?" I asked.

"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King

to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be

shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable

that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It

might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own

hands."

"And when will you call?"

"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a

clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a

complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King

without delay."

We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was

searching 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 the

greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had

hurried by.

"I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the dimly

lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been."