“You apply for my advice rather late in the day. I thought thatyou had your own all-sufficient methods. Still, I am ready to helpyou.”
“You see, Lord Cantlemere, we can no doubt frame a caseagainst the actual thieves.”
“When you have caught them.”
“Exactly. But the question is—how shall we proceed against thereceiver?”
“Is this not rather premature?”
“It is as well to have our plans ready. Now, what would youregard as final evidence against the receiver?”
“The actual possession of the stone.”
“You would arrest him upon that?”
“Most undoubtedly.”
Holmes seldom laughed, but he got as near it as his old friendWatson could remember.
“In that case, my dear sir, I shall be under the painful necessityof advising your arrest.”
Lord Cantlemere was very angry. Some of the ancient firesflickered up into his sallow cheeks.
“You take a great liberty, Mr. Holmes. In fifty years of officiallife I cannot recall such a case. I am a busy man, sir engaged uponimportant affairs, and I have no time or taste for foolish jokes. Imay tell you frankly, sir, that I have never been a believer in yourpowers, and that I have always been of the opinion that the matterwas far safer in the hands of the regular police force. Your conductconfirms all my conclusions. I have the honour, sir, to wish yougood-evening.”
Holmes had swiftly changed his position and was between thepeer and the door.
“One moment, sir,” said he. “To actually go off with the Mazarinstone would be a more serious offence than to be found intemporary possession of it.”
“Sir, this is intolerable! Let me pass.”
“Put your hand in the right-hand pocket of your overcoat.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Come—come, do what I ask.”
An instant later the amazed peer was standing, blinking andstammering, with the great yellow stone on his shaking palm.
“What! What! How is this, Mr. Holmes?”
“Too bad, Lord Cantlemere, too bad!” cried Holmes. “My oldfriend here will tell you that I have an impish habit of practicaljoking. Also that I can never resist a dramatic situation. I took theliberty—the very great liberty, I admit—of putting the stone intoyour pocket at the beginning of our interview.”
The old peer stared from the stone to the smiling face beforehim.
“Sir, I am bewildered. But—yes—it is indeed the Mazarin stone.
We are greatly your debtors, Mr. Holmes. Your sense of humourmay, as you admit, be somewhat perverted, and its exhibitionremarkably untimely, but at least I withdraw any reflection I havemade upon your amazing professional powers. But how ——”
“The case is but half finished; the details can wait. No doubt,Lord Cantlemere, your pleasure in telling of this successful resultin the exalted circle to which you return will be some smallatonement for my practical joke. Billy, you will show his Lordshipout, and tell Mrs. Hudson that I should be glad if she would sendup dinner for two as soon as possible.”
The Adventure of the Three Gables
I don’t think that any of my adventures with Mr. SherlockHolmes opened quite so abruptly, or so dramatically, as thatwhich I associate with The Three Gables. I had not seen Holmesfor some days and had no idea of the new channel into whichhis activities had been directed. He was in a chatty mood thatmorning, however, and had just settled me into the well-worn lowarmchair on one side of the fire, while he had curled down withhis pipe in his mouth upon the opposite chair, when our visitorarrived. If I had said that a mad bull had arrived it would give aclearer impression of what occurred.
The door had flown open and a huge negro had burst into theroom. He would have been a comic figure if he had not beenterrific, for he was dressed in a very loud gray check suit with aflowing salmon-coloured tie. His broad face and flattened nosewere thrust forward, as his sullen dark eyes, with a smoulderinggleam of malice in them, turned from one of us to the other.
“Which of you gen’l’men is Masser Holmes?” he asked.
Holmes raised his pipe with a languid smile.
“Oh! it’s you, is it?” said our visitor, coming with an unpleasant,stealthy step round the angle of the table. “See here, MasserHolmes, you keep your hands out of other folks’ business. Leavefolks to manage their own affairs. Got that, Masser Holmes?”
“Keep on talking,” said Holmes. “It’s fine.”
“Oh! it’s fine, is it?” growled the savage. “It won’t be so damnfine if I have to trim you up a bit. I’ve handled your kind beforenow, and they didn’t look fine when I was through with them.
Look at that, Masser Holmes!”
He swung a huge knotted lump of a fist under my friend’s nose.
Holmes examined it closely with an air of great interest.
“Were you born so?” he asked. “Or did it come by degrees?”
It may have been the icy coolness of my friend, or it may havebeen the slight clatter which I made as I picked up the poker. Inany case, our visitor’s manner became less flamboyant.
“Well, I’ve given you fair warnin’,” said he. “I’ve a friend that’sinterested out Harrow way—you know what I’m meaning—and hedon’t intend to have no buttin’ in by you. Got that? You ain’t thelaw, and I ain’t the law either, and if you come in I’ll be on handalso. Don’t you forget it.”
“I’ve wanted to meet you for some time,” said Holmes. “I won’task you to sit down, for I don’t like the smell of you, but aren’t youSteve Dixie, the bruiser?”
“That’s my name, Masser Holmes, and you’ll get put through itfor sure if you give me any lip.”
“It is certainly the last thing you need,” said Holmes, staringat our visitor’s hideous mouth. “But it was the killing of youngPerkins outside the Holborn Bar——What! you’re not going?”
The negro had sprung back, and his face was leaden. “I won’tlisten to no such talk,” said he. “What have I to do with this’ere Perkins, Masser Holmes? I was trainin’ at the Bull Ring inBirmingham when this boy done gone get into trouble.”
“Yes, you’ll tell the magistrate about it, Steve,” said Holmes. “I’vebeen watching you and Barney Stockdale——”
“So help me the Lord! Masser Holmes——”
“That’s enough. Get out of it. I’ll pick you up when I want you.”