Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.

I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA

I.

To Sherlock Holmes (the man these stories follow, a private detective in London) she is always the woman (the one woman above all others for him). I have seldom (almost never) heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes (the way he sees things) she eclipses (makes every other woman seem small beside her) and predominates (counts for more than all of them) the whole of her sex (all women everywhere). It was not that he felt any emotion akin (similar) to love for Irene Adler (the woman this story is about). All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent (hateful to him) to his cold, precise but admirably (impressively well) balanced (steady and even) mind. He was, I take it (I believe), the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position (put himself where he could not be his real self). He never spoke of the softer passions (love and tenderness), save (except) with a gibe (a mocking remark) and a sneer (a look that says he thinks it silly). They were admirable (worth praising) things for the observer (someone who watches closely)—excellent for drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions (uncovering the real reasons people do what they do). But for (the sentence is turned round. Plainly: however, if a man trained to reason let such things into his mind, that would bring in) the trained reasoner (a person taught to work things out step by step) to admit such intrusions (things pushing in from outside) into his own delicate (easily upset by small things) and finely (in a very exact way) adjusted temperament (the way his mind is built) was to introduce a distracting (pulling the mind away) factor (a thing that changes the result) which might throw a doubt upon (make people unsure of) all his mental results. Grit (tiny bits of sand) in a sensitive (easily affected by very small things) instrument, or a crack (a thin split) in one of his own high-power lenses (strong pieces of glass for looking closely at small things), would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him (there was only one woman who counted for him), and that woman was the late Irene Adler (Irene Adler, who was already dead when Watson wrote this), of dubious and questionable memory (Watson is writing years afterwards. Those who remembered her were not sure she was honest.).

I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away from each other (slowly pulled the two of us apart). My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests (the things that fill a man whose life is now inside his own house) which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment (the man in charge of a house of his own), were sufficient to absorb all my attention (fill my mind completely), while Holmes, who loathed (hated) every form of society (any kind of mixing with other people) with his whole Bohemian soul (Bohemia is a real country in Europe, but ‘Bohemian’ here describes a person who lives outside ordinary rules, the way artists were said to), remained in our lodgings (rented rooms) in Baker Street (the London street where Holmes has his home), buried among his old books, and alternating (swinging back and forth) from week to week between cocaine (a strong drug that lifts a person and then leaves him low) and ambition, the drowsiness (a heavy state close to sleep) of the drug, and the fierce (wild and strong) energy (force and drive) of his own keen (sharp) nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense (very great) faculties (powers of mind) and extraordinary powers of observation in following out (tracing to the end) those clues, and clearing up (finding the answer to) those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time (sometimes) I heard some vague (unclear) account of his doings: of his summons (a call to come) to Odessa (a port city on the Black Sea, then part of Russia) in the case of the Trepoff murder (a killing Holmes was called abroad to look into), of his clearing up of the singular (strange and unusual) tragedy of the Atkinson brothers (two brothers in another of Holmes’s cases) at Trincomalee (a port town on the island then called Ceylon, now Sri Lanka), and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately (with great care and skill) and successfully for the reigning family of Holland (the family then ruling the Netherlands). Beyond these signs of his activity (apart from these signs of what he was doing), however (but), which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily press (the newspapers, printed every day), I knew little of my former friend and companion.

One night—it was on the twentieth of March (the 20th day of the third month, in the year 1888), 1888—I was returning from a journey to a patient (for (here this word means ‘because’) I had now returned (gone back) to civil practice (treating ordinary paying patients again)), when my way led me through Baker Street (the London street where Holmes has his home). As I passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing (the time when I was winning the woman I married), and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet (an earlier case of Holmes’s that Watson wrote up as a book), I was seized with a keen desire (suddenly filled with a strong wish) to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing (using) his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit (shining with strong light), and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare (thin) figure pass twice in a dark silhouette (a dark shape with no detail) against the blind (against the cloth cover pulled down over the window). He was pacing (walking back and forth) the room swiftly (quickly), eagerly (with strong wish and hurry), with his head sunk upon his chest (dropped down onto his chest) and his hands clasped (held tightly together) behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own story (the way he stood and moved made plain what he was doing). He was at work again. He had risen out of (had come out of) his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent (close behind something he was chasing) of some new problem. I rang the bell and was shown up (was led upstairs) to the chamber (the room) which had formerly (in earlier times) been in part my own (which had once been half mine, when I lived here too).

His manner was not effusive (warm and full of open feeling). It seldom (almost never) was; but he was glad, I think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars (rolls of tobacco leaf for smoking), and indicated a spirit case (a box holding bottles of strong drink) and a gasogene (a home machine that put bubbles into water) in the corner. Then he stood before the fire and looked me over (studied me from head to foot) in his singular (strange and unusual) introspective (looking into his own thoughts) fashion.

“Wedlock (the state of being married) suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson (the doctor who tells this story, and Holmes’s friend), that you have put on (gained in weight) seven and a half pounds (about three and a half kilos) since I saw you.”

“Seven!” I answered.

“Indeed (really? I would have said more than that), I should have thought a little more (I would have guessed a little more). Just a trifle (a little bit) more, I fancy (I would guess), Watson. And in practice (working as a doctor with paying patients) again, I observe (I can see). You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness (start doing steady daily work again).”

“Then, how do you know?”

“I see it, I deduce (find the answer from small clues) it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy (very awkward, always dropping things) and careless servant (a person paid to work in a house) girl?”

“My dear Holmes (an ordinary friendly way of speaking to a friend),” said I, “this is too much (that is more than I can believe). You would certainly have been burned (in older times a person who seemed to know things by magic was put to death by fire), had you lived a few centuries ago (if you had lived a few hundred years ago). It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful (very bad) mess, but as (here this word means ‘because’) I have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you deduce (find the answer from small clues) it. As to (turning now to) Mary Jane (the young servant in Watson’s house), she is incorrigible (hopeless, she will never improve), and my wife has given her notice (told her she must leave the job), but there, again (but here too), I fail to see how you work it out (reach the answer).”

He chuckled (laughed quietly) to himself and rubbed (moved one against the other) his long, nervous (quick and restless) hands together.

“It is simplicity itself (nothing could be easier),” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight (the light thrown out by the fire) strikes it, the leather is scored (marked with cut lines) by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped (rubbed hard with something sharp) round the edges of the sole (the flat bottom of the shoe) in order to remove crusted (dried into a hard layer) mud from it. Hence (so, from that), you see, my double deduction (an answer found from small clues) that you had been out in vile (very bad) weather, and that you had a particularly malignant (set on doing harm) boot-slitting (cutting into shoe leather) specimen (example) of the London slavey (a young girl kept as a hard-worked house servant). As to your practice (as for your work as a doctor), if a gentleman walks into my rooms (my home) smelling of iodoform (a strong-smelling medicine used on wounds), with a black mark of nitrate of silver (a chemical doctors used that leaves a black stain on skin) upon his right forefinger (the finger next to the thumb), and a bulge (a rounded swelling pushing out) on the right side of his top-hat (the tall stiff hat men wore in the street) to show where he has secreted (hidden away) his stethoscope (the tube a doctor listens to your chest with), I must be dull (slow to understand), indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be (declare that he is) an active member of the medical profession.”

I could not help laughing (could not stop myself from laughing) at the ease (how easily) with which he explained his process of deduction (an answer found from small clues). “When I hear you give your reasons,” I remarked, “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously (so much so that it seems silly) simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive (coming one after another) instance of your reasoning I am baffled (completely puzzled) until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours.”

“Quite so (yes, exactly),” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself down into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe (notice the details). The distinction (the difference) is clear. For example, you have frequently (often) seen the steps which lead up from the hall (from the entrance area inside the front door) to this room.”

“Frequently (often).”

“How often?”

“Well, some hundreds of times.”

“Then how many are there?”

“How many? I don’t know.”

“Quite so (yes, exactly)! You have not observed (noticed the details). And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, (well then) I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed. By the way (and another thing), since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are good enough (kind and willing) to chronicle (write down as a record) one or two of my trifling (small and unimportant) experiences, you may be interested in this.” He threw over (tossed across to me) a sheet of thick, pink-tinted (faintly coloured pink) notepaper (paper kept for writing letters) which had been lying open upon the table. “It came by the last post (the final delivery of letters for the day),” said he. “Read it aloud.”

The note was undated (with no day written on it), and without either signature or address.

“There will call upon you (the words are in a turned-round order. Plainly: a gentleman will visit you.) to-night, at a quarter to eight o’clock,” it said (Everything in quotation marks here is a written note that Watson is reading out. The stiff, formal wording belongs to the note, not to anyone speaking.), “a gentleman who desires to consult (ask the advice of) you upon a matter of the very deepest moment (that matters more than almost anything). Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe (the ruling families of Europe) have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated (so important that no words are too strong for them). This account of you (the words are in a turned-round order. Plainly: people everywhere have told us this about you.) we have from all quarters (from many different people) received. Be in your chamber (room) then at that hour, and do not take it amiss (think badly of it) if your visitor wear a mask (older English dropped the -s from the verb after ‘if’, so this simply means he has his face covered).”

“This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it means?”

“I have no data (the facts to work from) yet. It is a capital mistake (a very serious mistake) to theorise (build an explanation) before one has data. Insensibly (without noticing it happening) one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts (Holmes is stating the rule he works by. The facts come first and the explanation second, never the other way round.). But the note itself. (a sentence with no verb. Plainly: now let us look at the note itself) What do you deduce (find the answer from small clues) from it?”

I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written.

“The man who wrote it was presumably (as far as one can tell) well to do (rich),” I remarked, endeavouring (trying) to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper could not be bought under half a crown (an old British coin worth an eighth of a pound, a fair sum then) a packet (a small paper package). It is peculiarly (unusually) strong and stiff (hard and not bending).”

“Peculiar (odd, out of the ordinary)—that is the very word (exactly the right word),” said Holmes. “It is not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light.”

I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a large “G” with a small “t” woven (worked into the material while it was made) into the texture (the make and feel of the material) of the paper.

“What do you make of that? (what do you think it means)” asked Holmes.

“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram (his first letters joined into one mark), rather.”

“Not at all. (no, that is quite wrong) The ‘G’ with the small ‘t’ stands for (is short for) ‘Gesellschaft,’ (a German word, and Holmes gives its meaning in the next words) which is the German for ‘Company.’ It is a customary (usual) contraction (a shortened form of a word) like our ‘Co.’ ‘P,’ of course, stands for ‘Papier (the German word for paper).’ Now for the ‘Eg.’ (now let us see what ‘Eg’ means) Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer (a fat reference book listing the towns of Europe with facts about each).” He took down a heavy brown volume (book) from his shelves. “Eglow, Eglonitz (two town names he skips as he runs his eye down the page)—here we are (I have found it), Egria (a small town in central Europe, in what is now the Czech Republic). It is in a German-speaking country (a land where the people speak German)—in Bohemia (a land in central Europe, now part of the Czech Republic), not far from Carlsbad (a town in Bohemia famous for its healing springs). ‘Remarkable as being (a shortened book entry. In full: the town is known for being) the scene of the death of Wallenstein (a famous soldier killed there hundreds of years before this story), and for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills (factories where paper is made).’ Ha, ha, my boy (a warm friendly way one man speaks to a close friend), what do you make of that? (what do you think it means)” His eyes sparkled, and he sent up (breathed out and upward) a great blue triumphant (showing he had won) cloud from his cigarette.

“The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said.

“Precisely. (yes, exactly right) And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the peculiar (odd, out of the ordinary) construction (the way the words are ordered) of the sentence—‘This account of you we have from all quarters received. (Plainly: we have heard this about you from many people. The words are set in an order English does not use.)’ A Frenchman (a man from France) or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs (so rude to his verbs - a joke: German puts the verb at the very end of the sentence, as if pushing it to the back). It only remains (all that is left to do is), therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper (paper made in Bohemia, a country in central Europe) and prefers wearing a mask (a covering worn over the face) to showing his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken (wrong), to resolve all our doubts (to answer all our questions).”

As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses’ hoofs (the hard feet of horses) and grating (scraping harshly) wheels against the curb (the raised stone edge along the road), followed by a sharp pull at the bell (a hard tug on the handle outside the door, which is how bells were rung then). Holmes whistled.

“A pair (two horses joined side by side to pull one carriage), by the sound (judging by what I hear),” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out of the window. “A nice little brougham (a small closed carriage drawn by horses) and a pair of beauties (two very fine horses). A hundred and fifty guineas (old British gold coins, each worth a little more than a pound) apiece (each). There’s money in this case (whoever is behind this is rich), Watson, if there is nothing else (whatever else this turns out to be).”

“I think that I had better go, Holmes.”

“Not a bit (certainly not), Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell (Holmes means the friend who writes down everything he does, as James Boswell recorded the life of Samuel Johnson). And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it.”

“But your client (the man who is paying you for the work)—”

“Never mind him (do not worry about him). I may want your help, and so may he (the words are turned round. Plainly: and he may want your help too). Here he comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention.”

A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the passage (the narrow hallway), paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and authoritative (sounding like a person used to being obeyed) tap.

“Come in!” said Holmes.

A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches (about one metre ninety-eight) in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules (the build of the giant hero of the old Greek stories, famous for his strength). His dress (his clothes) was rich with a richness (costly quality) which would, in England (the country where Holmes and Watson live), be looked upon as (be seen as) akin (similar) to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan (dark tightly curled fur from a young sheep) were slashed (cut in long lines) across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted (with two rows of buttons down the front) coat, while the deep blue cloak (a loose coat with no arms, worn over the shoulders) which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured (bright orange-red, the colour of fire) silk and secured at the neck with a brooch (a jewelled pin for holding clothing together) which consisted of a single flaming beryl (one bright green-blue precious stone). Boots which extended halfway up his calves (the thick back part of his lower legs), and which were trimmed at the tops (with fur set round the upper edge) with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric (rough and foreign to English eyes) opulence (great wealth on show) which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat (a hat with a wide flat edge all round it) in his hand, while he wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones (the bones just under the eyes), a black vizard mask (a black covering worn over the upper part of the face), which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for (here this word means ‘because’) his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive (giving the idea of) of resolution (a firm will) pushed to the length of obstinacy (carried so far that it becomes a refusal to change his mind).

“You had my note?” he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly marked German accent. “I told you that I would call.” He looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address (which of the two men to speak to).

“Pray (please) take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and colleague (someone who works alongside him), Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough (kind and willing) to help me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address (a very polite way of asking a stranger for his name)?”

“You may address me as the Count Von Kramm (the name the masked visitor gives for himself), a Bohemian nobleman (a man of high birth from Bohemia, a land in central Europe now part of the Czech Republic). I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and discretion (the habit of keeping things quiet), whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone.”

I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me.”

The Count shrugged (lifted and dropped his shoulders) his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said he, “by binding you both (making the two of you promise) to absolute secrecy (keeping it hidden from everyone) for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight (of such importance) it may have an influence upon European history.”

“I promise,” said Holmes.

“And I.”

“You will excuse this mask (this covering over my face),” continued our strange visitor. “The august (very high and grand) person who employs (pays to work for him) me wishes his agent (the man who acts for him) to be unknown to you, and I may confess (admit) at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own.”

“I was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly (in a flat voice, without warmth).

“The circumstances (the facts around the case) are of great delicacy (needing very careful handling), and every precaution (a step made in advance to stop trouble) has to be taken to quench (stop before it can spread) what might grow to be an immense (very great) scandal (public shame) and seriously compromise (damage the good name of) one of the reigning (ruling as king or queen) families of Europe. To speak plainly (in simple direct words), the matter implicates (shows a connection with) the great House of Ormstein (the family that has long ruled Bohemia), hereditary kings (kings who pass the crown from father to son) of Bohemia (a land in central Europe, now part of the Czech Republic).”

“I was also aware of that,” murmured (said in a low soft voice) Holmes, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes.

Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid (slow and without energy), lounging (sitting in a loose, lazy way) figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted (described) to him as the most incisive (sharp, going straight to the point) reasoner (a man who works things out by thinking) and most energetic agent (a man who acts for others) in Europe. Holmes slowly reopened (opened again) his eyes and looked impatiently (showing he did not want to wait) at his gigantic client (the huge man who is paying him for the work).

“If your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him) would condescend (agree, from his high place, to) to state your case (tell what the trouble is),” he remarked, “I should be better able to advise you.”

The man sprang (jumped suddenly) from his chair and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation (a badly upset state). Then, with a gesture of desperation (a state of having no hope left), he tore the mask (the covering over his face) from his face and hurled (threw hard) it upon the ground. “You are right,” he cried (he shouted); “I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal (hide) it?”

“Why, indeed? (Holmes means: yes, there is no reason at all to hide it)” murmured (said in a low soft voice) Holmes. “Your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him) had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing (the words are turned round. Plainly: you had hardly begun to speak before I already knew I was talking to) Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein (the full name of the masked visitor), Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein (ruler of a small German land), and hereditary (passed down from father to son) King of Bohemia (ruler of the land of Bohemia in central Europe).”

“But you can understand,” said our strange visitor, sitting down once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, “you can understand that I am not accustomed to (not used to) doing such business in my own person (myself, instead of sending someone in my place). Yet the matter was so delicate (so private that it is easily spoiled) that I could not confide (trust) it to an agent (a man to act for me) without putting myself in his power (letting him have something he could use against me). I have come incognito (an Italian word for travelling under a false name so that nobody knows who you are) from Prague (the chief city of the land the visitor comes from) for the purpose of consulting (asking the advice of) you.”

“Then, pray consult (please go ahead and ask me about it),” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.

“The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago (about five years ago), during a lengthy (long) visit to Warsaw (the chief city of Poland), I made the acquaintance of (got to know) the well-known adventuress (a woman who made her own way in the world by charm and daring), Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.”

“Kindly (please) look her up in my index (his own filed list of facts about people), Doctor,” murmured (said in a low soft voice) Holmes without opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing (filing away under a label) all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not at once (straight away) furnish (supply) information. In this case I found her biography sandwiched in between (squeezed between) that of a Hebrew rabbi (a Jewish religious teacher) and that of a staff-commander (a senior officer in the navy) who had written a monograph (a short book on one single subject) upon the deep-sea fishes.

“Let me see!” said Holmes. “Hum! (a noise he makes to himself while he reads) Born in New Jersey (a state on the east coast of the United States) in the year 1858. Contralto (a woman singer with a low voice)—hum! La Scala (the great opera house of Milan in Italy), hum! Prima donna (Italian words for the leading woman singer of an opera company) Imperial Opera of Warsaw (the state opera house of the city of Warsaw)—yes! Retired from operatic stage—ha! Living in London—quite so! (Holmes is reading short broken notes out of his file rather than speaking sentences. The ‘ha’ and ‘quite so’ are his own noises as he reads.) Your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him), as I understand, became entangled with (had a love affair with) this young person, wrote her some compromising (able to damage his good name) letters, and is now desirous (wanting) of getting those letters back.”

“Precisely so. (yes, that is exactly right) But how—”

“Was there a secret marriage?”

“None.”

“No legal papers or certificates (official papers that prove something)?”

“None.”

“Then I fail to follow (cannot understand) your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him). If this young person should produce her letters (bring the letters out and show them) for blackmailing (forcing money or favours by threatening to tell a secret) or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity (that they are real)?”

“There is the writing. (the letters are in my own handwriting, so anyone can see I wrote them)”

“Pooh, pooh! (a rude noise meaning that is worth nothing) Forgery (someone copied his handwriting).”

“My private note-paper.”

“Stolen.”

“My own seal (the mark he presses into wax to show a letter is truly his).”

“Imitated (the word used when someone has made a false copy of an official mark).”

“My photograph.”

“Bought.”

“We were both in the photograph.”

“Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion (Holmes picks the mildest word he can for a serious wrong. What he means is that the King behaved very foolishly indeed.).”

“I was mad—insane.”

“You have compromised yourself (put your own good name at risk) seriously.”

“I was only Crown Prince (the king’s son, next in line for the throne) then. I was young. I am but thirty now (I am only thirty now).”

“It must be recovered.”

“We have tried and failed.”

“Your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him) must pay. It must be bought.”

“She will not sell.”

“Stolen, then.”

“Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay (working for money from me) ransacked (searched roughly, throwing everything about) her house. Once we diverted (sent off to the wrong place) her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has been waylaid (stopped on the road by men lying in wait). There has been no result.”

“No sign of it?”

“Absolutely none.”

Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem (a neat and interesting puzzle),” said he.

“But a very serious one to me,” returned (answered) the King reproachfully (in a hurt, blaming tone).

“Very, indeed. (yes, very serious indeed) And what does she propose to do (plan to do) with the photograph?”

“To ruin me.”

“But how?”

“I am about to be married.”

“So I have heard.”

“To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen (the young woman the King is about to marry), second daughter of the King of Scandinavia (the ruler of the northern lands of Europe). You may know the strict principles of her family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy (as careful about proper behaviour as a person can be). A shadow of a doubt (the smallest trace of uncertainty) as to my conduct (the way I have behaved) would bring the matter to an end (stop the marriage from happening).”

“And Irene Adler?”

“Threatens (she says she will) to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel (nothing bends her and nothing frightens her). She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most resolute (determined, never turned from what they want) of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go (she would do absolutely anything)—none.”

“You are sure that she has not sent it yet?”

“I am sure.”

“And why?”

“Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal (the agreement to marry) was publicly proclaimed (announced openly). That will be next Monday.”

“Oh, then we have three days yet (three days still left),” said Holmes with a yawn (an open-mouthed breath, the sign of a bored or sleepy man). “That is very fortunate, as (here this word means ‘because’) I have one or two matters of importance to look into (examine) just at present (right now). Your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him) will, of course, stay in London for the present (for now)?”

“Certainly. You will find me at the Langham (a large and costly London hotel) under the name of the Count Von Kramm (the false name the King is staying under).”

“Then I shall drop you a line (send you a short letter) to let you know how we progress.”

“Pray do so. (please do) I shall be all anxiety (I shall be waiting in a state of worry).”

“Then, as to money (and about money)?”

“You have carte blanche (French words meaning you may spend whatever you find necessary).”

“Absolutely?”

“I tell you that I would give one of the provinces (large parts of a country) of my kingdom to have that photograph.”

“And for present expenses?”

The King took a heavy chamois leather bag (a bag of soft yellow leather made from mountain goat) from under his cloak (a loose coat with no arms, worn over the shoulders) and laid it on the table.

“There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes (in paper money),” he said.

Holmes scribbled (wrote quickly and carelessly) a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it to him.

“And Mademoiselle’s (French for the unmarried lady’s) address?” he asked.

“Is Briony Lodge (the name of Irene Adler’s house), Serpentine Avenue (the street her house stands on), St. John’s Wood (a quiet district in north-west London).”

Holmes took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the photograph a cabinet (a photograph of the larger standard size, roughly as big as a postcard)?”

“It was.”

“Then, good-night, your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him), and I trust (I expect) that we shall soon have some good news for you. And good-night, Watson,” he added, as the wheels of the royal brougham (the king’s small closed carriage drawn by horses) rolled down the street. “If you will be good enough to call (if you would please come and see me) to-morrow (the next day, in the older spelling) afternoon at three o’clock I should like to chat this little matter over (talk the whole business through) with you.”

II.

At three o’clock precisely (exactly) I was at Baker Street (the London street where Holmes has his home), but Holmes had not yet returned (come back). The landlady (the woman who owns the house and rents out its rooms) informed me that he had left the house shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however (all the same), with the intention of awaiting (waiting for) him, however long he might be (no matter how long he took). I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for (here this word means ‘because’), though it was surrounded by none of the grim (dark and hard to face) and strange features which were associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client (how important and powerful his visitor was) gave it a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand (being worked on), there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation (the way he understood a whole situation straight away), and his keen (sharp), incisive (sharp, going straight to the point) reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle (fine and hard to notice) methods by which he disentangled (pulled apart into clear separate pieces) the most inextricable (so tangled they seemed impossible to sort out) mysteries. So accustomed was I (the words are turned round. Plainly: I was so used to it) to his invariable (never once failing) success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased (stopped) to enter into my head.

It was close upon four (almost four o’clock) before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom (a man employed to look after horses, looking as if he had been drinking), ill-kempt (with hair and clothes left in a mess) and side-whiskered (with hair grown long down the sides of his face), with an inflamed (red and swollen) face and disreputable (shabby, the clothes of a man nobody respects) clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was (turned-round order. Plainly: although I was used to) to my friend’s amazing powers in the use of disguises (changes of clothes and face to hide who he is), I had to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished (disappeared) into the bedroom, whence he emerged (from which he came out again) in five minutes tweed-suited (wearing a suit of thick rough wool) and respectable, as of old (looking the way he always used to). Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily (loudly and with real enjoyment) for some minutes.

“Well, really! (I can hardly believe it)” he cried (called out loudly), and then he choked and laughed again until he was obliged (forced) to lie back, limp (with no strength left in his body) and helpless, in the chair.

“What is it?”

“It’s quite too funny (so funny I can hardly describe it). I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning (spent my morning), or what I ended by doing (what I did in the end).”

“I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.”

“Quite so (yes, exactly); but the sequel (what happened next) was rather unusual. I will tell you, however (all the same). I left the house a little after eight o’clock this morning in the character of a groom (dressed and behaving as a man who works with horses) out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy (they understand each other, because they all live the same life) and freemasonry (a quiet closeness among them, like members of a private club) among horsey (living for riding and stables) men. Be one of them, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives). It is a bijou villa (French for a house as small and pretty as a jewel), with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two stories (two floors). Chubb lock (a strong door lock of a well-known English make) to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous (laughably foolish) English window fasteners (catches that hold a window shut) which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that (except that) the passage window (the window of the narrow hallway) could be reached from the top of the coach-house (the building where a carriage is kept). I walked round it and examined it closely from every point of view (from every side), but without noting anything else of interest.

“I then lounged down (walked slowly down) the street and found, as I expected, that there was a mews (a back lane of stables with rooms above them) in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent the ostlers a hand (helped the men who look after the horses) in rubbing down (wiping and cleaning after hard work) their horses, and received in exchange twopence (two pennies, a very small sum), a glass of half-and-half (a drink of two kinds of beer mixed together), two fills of shag tobacco (enough cheap coarse tobacco to fill a pipe twice), and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say nothing of (and besides that) half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled (forced) to listen to.”

“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked.

“Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads (made every man there fall in love with her) down in that part (in that part of town). She is the daintiest thing under a bonnet (the prettiest woman alive) on this planet. So say the Serpentine-mews (the men in the stable lane behind Serpentine Avenue), to a man (every one of them agreeing). She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out (goes out in her carriage) at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom (almost never) goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him (she sees him very often). He is dark, handsome, and dashing (lively and full of style), never calls less than once a day (never visits her fewer than once a day), and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton (the one man who comes regularly to see Irene Adler), of the Inner Temple (one of the old London societies that English lawyers belong to). See the advantages of a cabman (a man who drives a carriage for hire) as a confidant (someone people tell their secrets to). They had driven him home (the cab drivers had often driven that lawyer home) a dozen times from Serpentine-mews (the small street of stables behind Serpentine Avenue), and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives) once more, and to think over (think carefully about) my plan of campaign (my plan of action).

“This Godfrey Norton was evidently (clearly, as anyone could see) an important factor (a thing that counts) in the matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous (a sign of trouble ahead). What was the relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits (why he kept coming)? Was she his client (a person paying him for legal work), his friend, or his mistress (the woman he loved outside marriage)? If the former (if it is the first of those), she had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping (into his hands, for him to guard). If the latter (if it is the last of those), it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended (the words are turned around. In ordinary order it reads: the answer to this decided whether I should keep watching Briony Lodge.) whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives), or turn my attention to the gentleman’s chambers (the rooms where a London lawyer works) in the Temple (the part of London where lawyers have their offices). It was a delicate point (a hard thing to decide), and it widened the field of my inquiry (it made the search larger than before). I fear (I am sorry to say) that I bore (tire) you with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the situation.”

“I am following you closely,” I answered.

“I was still balancing the matter in my mind (still deciding what to think) when a hansom cab (a small two-wheeled carriage for hire) drove up to Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives), and a gentleman sprang (jumped suddenly) out. He was a remarkably (unusually) handsome man, dark, aquiline (with a nose curved like a bird’s beak), and moustached (with hair grown on his upper lip)—evidently (clearly, as anyone could see) the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman (the man driving the carriage for hire) to wait, and brushed past (pushed quickly past) the maid (a woman servant) who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home (completely at ease, as if the place were his own).

“He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of him (see him for short moments as he passed) in the windows of the sitting-room (the room of a house where people sit together), pacing (walking back and forth) up and down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. (the words are turned round. In ordinary order: I could not see her at all.) Presently (after a short while) he emerged (came out), looking even more flurried (in a nervous rush) than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly (seriously and with full attention), ‘Drive like the devil (drive as fast as you possibly can),’ he shouted, ‘first to Gross & Hankey’s (a shop in Regent Street) in Regent Street (a wide shopping street in central London), and then to the Church of St. Monica (a church named after a saint, on the far side of London) in the Edgeware Road (a long road running north-west out of central London). Half a guinea (an old gold coin worth about half a pound) if you do it in twenty minutes!’

“Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to follow them (the extra ‘not’ is old style. Plainly: whether I ought to follow them) when up the lane came a neat little landau (a light carriage with a roof that folds back), the coachman (the man who drives the carriage) with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tags of his harness (the loose ends of the straps that hold the horse) were sticking out of the buckles (the metal clasps that hold the straps). It hadn’t pulled up (stopped) before she shot out of (came rushing out of) the hall door and into it. I only caught a glimpse (saw for only a moment) of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for (so beautiful that a man would risk his life for her).

“‘The Church of St. Monica, John (the man who drives her carriage),’ she cried (called out loudly), ‘and half a sovereign (an old gold coin worth half a pound) if you reach it in twenty minutes.’

“This was quite too good to lose (this chance was far too good to miss), Watson. I was just balancing (still deciding between two choices) whether I should run for it (chase after them on foot), or whether I should perch (sit up on the back edge) behind her landau (a light carriage with a roof that folds back) when a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare (so poorly dressed a passenger), but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of St. Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign (an old gold coin worth half a pound) if you reach it in twenty minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind (what was about to happen).

“My cabby (the driver of a carriage for hire) drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the others were there before us. The cab and the landau (a light carriage with a roof that folds back) with their steaming (giving off heat after hard running) horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there (nobody at all there) save (except) the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman (a priest wearing his loose white church robe), who seemed to be expostulating (arguing against what they wanted) with them. They were all three standing in a knot (standing in one tight little group) in front of the altar (the holy table at the front of a church). I lounged (walked slowly with no hurry) up the side aisle (the walkway along the side) like any other idler (anyone else with nothing to do) who has dropped into a church (gone into a church casually for a short while). Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar (the holy table at the front of a church) faced round (turned to face) to me, and Godfrey Norton (the lawyer who visits Irene Adler every day) came running as hard as he could towards me.

“‘Thank God (a cry of relief),’ he cried (he called out loudly). ‘You’ll do (you are just the person I need). Come! Come!’

“‘What then?’ I asked.

“‘Come, man, come (hurry, please, hurry), only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’

“I was half-dragged up to the altar (the holy table at the front of a church), and before I knew where I was (before I could understand what was happening) I found myself mumbling responses (saying quietly the words the people in a church service are supposed to say back) which were whispered in my ear, and vouching for (swearing to the truth of) things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in the secure tying up of (the firm joining in marriage of) Irene Adler, spinster (the word a marriage record uses for a woman who has not married before), to Godfrey Norton (the lawyer who visits Irene Adler every day), bachelor (the word a marriage record uses for a man who has not married before). It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the clergyman (a priest of the church) beamed (smiled widely) on me in front. It was the most preposterous (laughably foolish) position in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. It seems that there had been some informality about their license (something not quite in order about their marriage papers), that the clergyman (a priest of the church) absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort (without someone to watch the wedding and sign to say it happened), and that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom (the man being married that day) from having to sally out (rush out) into the streets in search of a best man (the friend who stands beside the man being married). The bride gave me a sovereign (an old British gold coin worth one pound), and I mean to (plan to) wear it on my watch chain (the chain that holds a pocket watch) in memory of the occasion.”

“This is a very unexpected turn of affairs (change in how things have gone),” said I; “and what then?”

“Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced (under threat). It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure (leave straight away), and so necessitate (make it necessary for me to act) very prompt (quick, without delay) and energetic measures (strong, fast action) on my part (by me). At the church door, however (but), they separated (they went different ways), he driving back (he drove back) to the Temple (the district in London where lawyers have their offices), and she to her own house (and she drove to her own house). ‘I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,’ she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements.”

“Which are?”

“Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the bell. “I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation.”

“I shall be delighted.”

“You don’t mind breaking the law?”

“Not in the least (not at all).”

“Nor running a chance of arrest (risking being taken by the police)?”

“Not in a good cause (I do not mind that, if it is for a good reason).”

“Oh, the cause is excellent!”

“Then I am your man (I will do it).”

“I was sure that I might rely on you.”

“But what is it you wish?”

“When Mrs. Turner (the woman who brings in their meals) has brought in the tray (a flat board for carrying food) I will make it clear to you. Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on (began eating quickly) the simple fare (the plain food) that our landlady (the woman who owns the house and rents out its rooms) had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for (here this word means ‘because’) I have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene of action (the place where it is to happen). Miss Irene, or Madame (French for a married lady), rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives) to meet her.”

“And what then?”

“You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere (step in and stop what is happening), come what may (whatever happens). You understand?”

“I am to be neutral?”

“To do nothing whatever (to do nothing at all). There will probably be some small unpleasantness (a bit of a fight, named in a mild way). Do not join in it (do not take part in the fight). It will end in my being (in the end I will be) conveyed (carried) into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open. You are to (you must) station yourself (place yourself and stay there) close to that open window.”

“Yes.”

“You are to watch me, for (here this word means ‘because’) I will be visible to you.”

“Yes.”

“And when I raise my hand—so— (Holmes lifts his hand as he speaks, to show Watson the movement.)you will throw into the room what I give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire (shout out that there is a fire). You quite follow me? (do you understand me completely)”

“Entirely.”

“It is nothing very formidable (frightening),” he said, taking a long cigar (a roll of tobacco leaf for smoking)-shaped roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber’s (belonging to a man whose trade is water pipes and their repair) smoke-rocket (a tube that gives off thick smoke when it is lit, used to find leaks in pipes), fitted with a cap at either end (at each of its two ends) to make it self-lighting. Your task is confined to that (limited to that only). When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up (repeated by them too) by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin (join you again) you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?”

“I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street.”

“Precisely (exactly).”

“Then you may entirely rely on me.”

“That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare for the new role I have to play.”

He disappeared into his bedroom and returned (came back) in a few minutes in the character of (dressed and acting as) an amiable (friendly and easy to like) and simple-minded (plain and not at all clever) Nonconformist clergyman (an English preacher outside the official Church of England). His broad black hat, his baggy (loose and hanging) trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic (showing he feels for other people) smile, and general look of peering (looking hard and closely) and benevolent (kindly and meaning well) curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare (a famous English stage actor of that time) alone could have equalled (only he could have matched it). It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume (clothing). His expression, his manner, his very soul (even his soul itself) seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed (every new person he chose to act). The stage lost a fine actor, even as (at the same moment that) science lost an acute (very sharp) reasoner (a man who works things out by thinking), when he became a specialist in crime.

It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street (the London street where Holmes has his home), and it still wanted ten minutes to the hour (there were still ten minutes to go before the hour) when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue (the street where Irene Adler’s house stands). It was already dusk (the half-dark just after sunset), and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives), waiting for the coming of its occupant (the person who lives there). The house was just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes’ succinct (short and to the point) description, but the locality (the area round about) appeared to be less private than I expected. On the contrary (in fact the opposite was true), for (here this word means ‘considering that it was’) a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably (unusually) animated (busy and full of life). There was a group of shabbily dressed (in worn-out clothes) men smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder (a man who sharpened blades on a turning stone in the street) with his wheel, two guardsmen (two soldiers of the regiments that guard the royal palaces) who were flirting (trying to charm her for fun) with a nurse-girl (a young woman paid to look after children), and several well-dressed young men who were lounging (standing about in a loose, lazy way) up and down with cigars (rolls of tobacco leaf for smoking) in their mouths.

“You see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro (back and forth) in front of the house, “this marriage rather simplifies (makes easier) matters. The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon (a weapon that can cut the person holding it as well) now. The chances are (it is likely) that she would be as averse (unwilling) to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client (the man paying us for the work) is to its coming to the eyes of his princess (the photograph being seen by the woman he is to marry). Now the question is, Where are we to find the photograph?”

“Where, indeed?”

“It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her (keeps it on her all the time). It is cabinet size (it is the larger standard photograph, roughly as big as a postcard). Too large for easy concealment (hiding) about a woman’s dress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid (stopped on the road by men lying in wait) and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it (we can safely assume), then, that she does not carry it about with her.”

“Where, then?”

“Her banker (the man who keeps her money for her) or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am inclined (leaning towards the view) to think neither (not one of the two). Women are naturally secretive (keen to keep things hidden), and they like to do their own secreting (hiding of things away). Why should she hand it over (give it to someone else to keep) to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship (her own keeping of it safe), but she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon (used against) a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved (decided firmly) to use it within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it (reach it quickly). It must be in her own house.”

“But it has twice been burgled (broken into by thieves).”

“Pshaw! (a noise English speakers of that time made to throw an idea away as worthless) They did not know how to look.”

“But how will you look?”

“I will not look.”

“What then?”

“I will get her to show me.”

“But she will refuse.”

“She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble (a low rolling noise) of wheels. It is her carriage. Now carry out (do) my orders to the letter (exactly, down to the last word).”

As he spoke the gleam (a faint shine of light) of the sidelights (the lamps fixed to the sides of a carriage) of a carriage came round the curve of the avenue. It was a smart (neat and well kept) little landau (a light carriage with a roof that folds back) which rattled up (came up making a loud noise) to the door of Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives). As it pulled up (stopped), one of the loafing men (the men standing about with nothing to do) at the corner dashed (rushed) forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper (being given a small coin), but was elbowed away (shoved aside) by another loafer (another man standing about with nothing to do), who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce (wild and strong) quarrel (an angry argument) broke out (started suddenly), which was increased by the two guardsmen (soldiers of the regiments that guard the royal palaces), who took sides with (fought for) one of the loungers (the men standing about doing nothing), and by the scissors-grinder (the man who sharpened blades on a turning stone in the street), who was equally hot upon the other side (just as angry, but for the other man). A blow was struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little knot (a small tight group of people) of flushed (red in the face) and struggling men, who struck savagely (wildly and cruelly) at each other with their fists (tightly closed hands) and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as he reached her, he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels (ran away fast) in one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better dressed people, who had watched the scuffle (the short rough struggle) without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and to attend to (take care of) the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her superb figure (her very fine shape) outlined against the lights of the hall, looking back into the street.

“Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked.

“He is dead,” cried (shouted) several voices.

“No, no, there’s life in him (he is still alive)!” shouted another. “But he’ll be gone (he will be dead) before you can get him to hospital.”

“He’s a brave fellow (man),” said a woman. “They would have had (would have stolen) the lady’s purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him (if he had not been there). They were a gang (a group of criminals working together), and a rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.”

“He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm (a working person’s way of saying ‘madam’)?”

“Surely (of course). Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please!”

Slowly and solemnly (in a slow serious way) he was borne (carried) into Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives) and laid out (stretched flat on his back) in the principal room (the main room), while I still observed (watched) the proceedings (everything that was happening) from my post (the place where I had been told to keep watch) by the window. The lamps had been lit (set burning), but the blinds had not been drawn (the window covers had not been pulled across), so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized with compunction (suddenly feeling guilty) at that moment for the part he was playing (the false role he was acting), but I know that I never felt more heartily (deeply) ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was conspiring (secretly planning against), or the grace (her gentle easy manner) and kindliness (warm good feeling towards others) with which she waited upon (cared for) the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery (the worst possible betrayal of a friend) to Holmes to draw back (stop now and not do it) now from the part which he had intrusted (given into my care) to me. I hardened my heart (I made myself stop feeling pity), and took the smoke-rocket (the tube that gives off thick smoke when it is lit) from under my ulster (my long heavy winter coat). After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but (only) preventing her from injuring another (hurting someone else).

Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion (make a sign with his hand) like a man who is in need of air. A maid (a woman servant) 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 (the tube that gives off thick smoke when it is lit) into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The word was no sooner out of my mouth (the instant I had said it) than the whole crowd of spectators (people standing watching), well dressed and ill (some in good clothes and some in poor ones)—gentlemen, ostlers (men paid to tend horses at a stable), and servant maids (women who work in a house)—joined in a general shriek (a high scream from everyone together) of “Fire!” Thick clouds of smoke curled (moved in twisting rolls) through the room and out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of (saw for a second) rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within (from inside the house) assuring (telling them firmly) them that it was a false alarm (a warning about a danger that was not real). Slipping through the shouting (calling out loudly) crowd I made my way (got) to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced (made very glad) to find my friend’s arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar (loud confused noise). He walked swiftly (quickly) and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down (went into) one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road (a long road running north-west out of central London).

“You did it very nicely (well), 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 still do not understand).”

“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 (a helper in the plan). They were all engaged for the evening (hired for the evening).”

“I guessed as much (I thought so).”

“Then, when the row (the noisy quarrel) broke out (started suddenly), I had a little moist (slightly wet) red paint in the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped (put quickly and firmly) my hand to my face, and became a piteous (such as to make anyone feel pity) spectacle (a sight people stop to look at). It is an old trick.”

“That also I could fathom (understand by thinking it through).”

“Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in (she was certain to let me be brought inside). What else could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room (exactly the room) which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined (had decided firmly) to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned (made a sign with my hand) for air, they were compelled (forced) 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 (This is the general rule Holmes works by. He is not describing what happened but stating what he expects anyone at all to do.), her instinct (the way she acts without stopping to think) is at once (straight away) to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse (a sudden push to act that cannot be resisted), and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington Substitution Scandal (an earlier case of Holmes’s) it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business (another earlier case of his). A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried (with no husband) one reaches for her jewel-box (the box where a woman keeps her rings and necklaces). Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day (the woman we are dealing with today) had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of (searching for). She would rush to secure (reach and take) it. The alarm of fire was admirably (impressively well) done. The smoke and shouting (calling out loudly) were enough to shake nerves of steel (upset even the calmest person). She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess (a hollow space set back in the wall) behind a sliding panel (a flat board that slides aside) just above the right bell-pull (the handle on the right that you pull to ring for a servant). She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half drew it out (started to pull it out). When I cried out (shouted) that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket (the tube that gives off thick smoke when it is lit), rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses (saying polite words to explain my leaving), escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman (the man who drives her carriage) had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly (closely), it seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance (acting too fast) may ruin all.”

“And now?” I asked.

“Our quest (our search) is practically (almost) finished. I shall call with the King (I will go to her house with the King) to-morrow (the next day, in the older spelling), and with you, if you care to (would like to) come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable (likely) that when she comes she may find neither (not one of the two) us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty (the king himself) to regain it with his own hands.”

“And when will you call?”

“At eight in the morning. She will not be up (she will still be asleep), so that we shall have a clear field (nothing in our way). Besides, we must be prompt (quick, without delay), for (here this word means ‘because’) this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to (send a telegram to) the King without delay.”

We had reached Baker Street (the London street where Holmes has his home) and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said:

“Good-night, Mister (a polite title for a man, written out in full) Sherlock Holmes.”

There were several people on the pavement (the paved walking path at the side of the road) at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster (a long heavy winter coat) who had hurried by.

“I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit (with only faint light) street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce (a mild old swear word) that could have been.”

III.

I slept at Baker Street (the London street where Holmes has his home) that night, and we were engaged upon (busy with) our toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia (the ruler of the land of Bohemia in central Europe) rushed into the room.

“You have really got it!” he cried (he said loudly), grasping (taking a firm hold of) Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder (by both shoulders, one hand on each) and looking eagerly (with strong wish and hurry) into his face.

“Not yet.”

“But you have hopes?”

“I have hopes.”

“Then, come. (then let us go now) I am all impatience to be gone (I cannot wait a moment longer to leave).”

“We must have a cab.”

“No, my brougham (a small closed carriage drawn by horses) is waiting.”

“Then that will simplify matters.” We descended (we went down the stairs) and started off once more for Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives).

“Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes.

“Married! When?”

“Yesterday.”

“But to whom?”

“To an English lawyer named Norton.”

“But she could not love him.”

“I am in hopes that she does.”

“And why in hopes?”

“Because it would spare (save you from) your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him) all fear of future annoyance (trouble still to come). If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere (step in and stop what is happening) with your Majesty’s plan.”

“It is true. And yet—! (he begins to say something more and stops himself) Well! (a sound made when a man accepts something he is sorry about) I wish she had been of my own station (of my own rank in the world)! What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into (sank back into) a moody (dark and unhappy) silence, which was not broken until we drew up (stopped) in Serpentine Avenue (the street where Irene Adler’s house stands).

The door of Briony Lodge (the house where Irene Adler lives) was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye (a mocking, bitter look) as we stepped from the brougham (a small closed carriage drawn by horses).

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she.

“I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a questioning and rather startled (suddenly surprised) gaze (a long steady look).

“Indeed! My mistress (the lady I work for) told me that you were likely to call. She left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross (a large railway station in central London) for the Continent (mainland Europe).”

“What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back (stepped back off balance), white with chagrin (bitter disappointment) and surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England (the country where Holmes and Watson live)?”

“Never to return.”

“And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely (in a rough dry voice). “All is lost.”

“We shall see.” He pushed past the servant (a person paid to work in a house) and rushed into the drawing-room (the main room of a house for receiving visitors), followed by the King and myself. The furniture was scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves (shelves stripped bare) and open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked (searched roughly, throwing everything about) them before her flight (her running away). Holmes rushed at the bell-pull (the handle you pull to ring for a servant), tore back (pulled quickly open) a small sliding shutter (a small flat cover that slides aside), and, plunging (pushing suddenly and deep) in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to (addressed on the outside to) “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. (a polite title written after a gentleman’s name) To be left till called for (to be kept here until someone comes to collect it).” My friend tore it open, and we all three read it together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding (coming just before) night and ran in this way (the words in it were these):

“MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,—You really did it very well. (From here to the end of the letter the ‘I’ is Irene Adler and the ‘you’ is Holmes. These are her written words, not Watson telling the story.) You took me in (fooled me) completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself (I had shown him the truth without meaning to), I began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had been told that, if the King employed (paid to act for him) an agent (someone working on his behalf), it would certainly be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious (beginning to doubt him), I found it hard to think evil of (believe bad things about) such a dear, kind old clergyman (a priest of the church). But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume (men’s clothing) is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of (make use of) the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman (the man who drives my carriage), to watch you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you departed (left).

“Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was really an object of interest to the celebrated (the famous) Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently (unwisely), wished you good-night, and started for the Temple to see my husband.

“We both thought the best resource (the best thing to do) was flight (running away), when pursued by so formidable (frightening) an antagonist (opponent); so you will find the nest empty (you will find the house empty of us both) when you call (when you arrive at the house) to-morrow (the next day, in the older spelling). As to the photograph, your client (the man paying you for the work) may rest in peace (he need not worry any more). I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what he will (do whatever he wants) without hindrance (anything to stop him) from one whom he has cruelly wronged (treated with great injustice). I keep it only to safeguard myself (keep myself out of danger), and to preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take (keep me safe from anything he might do against me later) in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess (that he may like to keep); and I remain (the old way of ending a letter, like ‘yours’), dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,

“Very truly yours,

“IRENE NORTON, née (a French word meaning born under the family name that follows) ADLER.”

“What a woman—oh, what a woman!” cried (called out loudly) the King of Bohemia (the ruler of the land of Bohemia in central Europe), when we had all three read this epistle (this letter). “Did I not tell you how quick and resolute (who never changes her mind) she was? Would she not have made an admirable (worth praising) queen? Is it not a pity that she was not on my level (of the same rank as me)?”

“From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a very different level to your Majesty (far above you, not below you),” said Holmes coldly (with no warmth in his voice). “I am sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty’s business to a more successful conclusion.”

“On the contrary, my dear sir (an old polite way of addressing a man),” cried (called out loudly) the King; “nothing could be more successful. I know that her word is inviolate (a promise from her is never broken). The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire (as though it had already been burnt).”

“I am glad to hear your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him) say so.”

“I am immensely indebted (owing you a very great deal) to you. Pray tell me (please tell me) in what way I can reward you. This ring—” He slipped an emerald snake ring (a ring shaped like a snake and set with a green stone) from his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand.

“Your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him) has something which I should value even more highly,” said Holmes.

“You have but to name it. (you only have to say what you want)”

“This photograph!”

The King stared at him in amazement (great surprise).

“Irene’s photograph!” he cried (he called out loudly). “Certainly, if you wish it.”

“I thank your Majesty (what you call a king when you speak to him). Then there is no more to be done in the matter. I have the honour (a very formal way of speaking, used here to close the meeting politely) to wish you a very good morning.” He bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand (without noticing the hand the King was offering him) which the King had stretched out to him, he set off (began to walk) in my company (with me) for his chambers (the rooms where a London gentleman lives and works).

And that was how a great scandal (public shame) threatened (was about) to affect the kingdom of Bohemia (the king and royal family of that country in central Europe), and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten (defeated) by a woman’s wit (a quick and sharp mind). He used to make merry over (joke about) the cleverness (being quick and sharp of mind) of women, but I have not heard him do it of late (in recent times). And when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honourable (worthy of respect) title of the woman (the marks around ‘the’ show it is said with weight — she is the one woman above all others for him).