Sherlock Holmes: The Scandal in Bohemia - One

A Scandal in Bohemia by Arthur Conan Doyle was first published in Strand Magazine in the month of June 1891.

Irene Adler! To Sherlock Holmes she is only the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her name. It was not that he felt any love towards her. All emotions, and particularly love, were abhorrent to his cold, precise, but balanced mind. He was the most reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer.

Of late, I had seen little of Holmes. My marriage has drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home centred matters were sufficient to absorb all my attention. Holmes, who loathed every form of society, remained in our lodgings in Baker street, buried among his old books. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary power of observation in following out those clues and clearing up those mysteries, which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings through press. Beyond this I knew little of my former friend and companion.

One night, on my way back from a patient, I happened to pass through Baker street. When I passed the well remembered door, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes, and to know how he was enjoying his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and his tall spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest, and his hands clasped behind him. I came to realise that he was at work again. I rang the bell, and was shown upto the chamber which had formerly been in part my own.

He was glad to see me. He waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire, looked me over, and said, "Wedlock suits you, Watson. You have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you."

"Seven," I answered.

"Indeed, I should have thought a little more, just a trifle more, I fancy Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness."

"Then, how do you know?"

"I see it. I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very lately, and you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?

"My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much. You should certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday, and came home in a dreadful mess; and as I changed my clothes, I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice; but there again I fail to see how you work it out."

He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long nervous hands together.

"It is simplicity itself," said he; my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my room, smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the side of his top-hat, where he has secreted his stethoscope. I pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession."

I could not help laughing at his explanation. "It appears to me simple when I hear you give your reasons. But I always fail in my deductions. But I believe that my eyes are as good as yours," said I.

"Quite so," he answered lightening a cigarette, and throwing himself down into an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from hall to this room."

"Frequently."

"How often?"

"Well, some hundred times."

"Then how many are there?

"How many! I don't know."

"Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested in these matters, and you are interested in chronicling one or two of my experiences, you may be interested in this."  He took a sheet of thick pink-tinted note paper which had been lying upon the table. "It came by the last post," said he. "Read it aloud."

The note was not dated, and without either signature or address.

"There will call upon you tonight, at a quarter to eight o'clock," it said, "a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the Royal Houses 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. This account of you we have from all quarters received.  Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not make it amiss if your visitor wear a mask."

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

"I have no data yet. It is a mistake to theorize before one has data. It takes you to twisting facts to suit theories. But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?"

I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written. "The man who wrote it was presumably well to do," I remarked, endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes. "Such paper could not be under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff."

"Peculiar - that is the very word," said Holmes. "It is not an English paper at all. Hold it upto the light."

I did so, and saw a large E with small g, a P, and a large G with a small t woven into the texture of the paper.

"What do you make of that?" asked Holmes.

"The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather."

"Not at all. The G with small t stands for "Gesellschaft", which is the German for the"Company". It is a customary contraction like our "Co". P of course stands for "Papier". Now for the Eg. Let us glance at our continental Gazetter. He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. "Eglow". Eg- lonitz -- here we are, Egria. It is a German speaking country. In Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wellenstein, and for its numerous glass factories and paper mills. "Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of that?" His eyes sparkled and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette.

"The paper was made in Bohemia," said I.

"Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence --'This account of you we have from all quarters received.' A French or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper, and prefers wearing a mask. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts." 

There was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sudden pull at the bell. Holmes whistled. "A pair, by the sound," said he. "Yes," he continued, glancing out of the window. "A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas a piece. There's money in this case, Watson, if there is nothing else."

"I think that I had better go," said Watson.

" Not a bit, doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Bosewell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it."

"But your client ---"

"Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. 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, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and authoritative tap.

"Come in!" said Holmes.

A man entered. He was of six feet six inches, of Herculean chest and limbs. His dress was overwhelmingly rich. His boots extended halfway up his calves; a broad brimmed hat in his hand; he was adjusting the mask on his face while he entered the room.

"You had my note?" A deep harsh voice in German accent. "I told you that I would call." He looked from one to the other of us as if uncertain whom to address.

"Pray, take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?"

"You may address me as Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian noble man. I understand that your friend is a man of honour and discretion, whom I may trust as yourself. If not, I should 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," he said, "You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me."

The Count shrugged his shoulders. "Then I must begin," said he, "by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years, at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance." 

"I promise," said Holmes.

"And I."

"I was aware of it," said Holmes dryly.

"You will excuse this mask," continued the stranger. The August person who employed me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may confess 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. "The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken to stop what might grow to be a scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great house of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia." Settling himself down in an armchair, Holmes closed his eyes. Our visitor glanced surprisingly at the languid, lounging figure of the man who had been depicted as the most incisive reasoner, and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly opened his eyes, and looked impatiently at his gigantic client.

"If your majesty would condescend to state your case," he remarked, "I should be able to advise you."

The man sprang from his chair, and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. "You are right," he cried, "I am the king. Why should I attempt to conceal it?"

"Why indeed," murmured Holmes. "Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia."

"But, you can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person." Said our strange visitor, sitting down once more and passing his hand over his high, white forehead. "Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power," continued the visitor, "I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you."

"Then, pray consult," said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.

"The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventures Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you."

"Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor," murmured Holmes, without opening his eyes. Holmes had a system of docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was not difficult to retrieve an information from the past. I found her biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew Rabbi and that of staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep sea fishes.

"Let me see?" said Holmes. "Hum! Born New Jersey in the year 1858. Contralto -- hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw -- Retired from stage -- ha! Living in London ---quite so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back."

"Precisely so. But how ---"

"Was there a secret marriage?"

"None."

"No legal papers or certificates?"

"None."

"Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity?"

"There is the writing."

"Pooh, pooh! Forgery."

"My private note paper."

"Stolen."

"My own seal."

"Imitated."

"My photograph."

"Bought."

"We were both in the photograph."

Oh dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion"

"I was mad --- insane."

"You have compromised yourself seriously."

"I was only a crown prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now."

"It must be recovered."

"We have tried and failed."

Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought."

"She will not sell."

"Stolen, then."

"Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has been waylaid. There has been no result."

"No sign of it.'

"Absolutely none."

Holmes laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem," said he.

"But a serious one to me," returned the King reproachfully.

"Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?"

"To ruin me."

"But how?"

"I am about to be married."

"So I have heard."

"To Clotilde Lothman von Sax-Menin-gen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end."

"And Irene Adler?"

"Threatens 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. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go --- 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 was publically proclaimed. That will be the next Monday."

"Oh, then, we have three days yet," said Holmes, with a yawn. "That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?"

"Certainly. You will find me at the Langham, under the name of the Count Von Kramm."

"Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress."

"Pray, do so. I shall be all anxiety."

"Then, as to money?"

"You have carte blanche."

"Absolutely?"

"I tell that I would one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph."

"And for the present expenses?"

The king took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak, and laid it on the table.

"There are three hundred pounds in gold, and seven hundred in notes," he said.

Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note book, and handed it to him.

"And mademoiselle's address?"

"Is  Briony Lodge, Serpentine-avenue, St John's Wood."

Holmes took a note of it. "One other question," said he. "Was the photograph a cabinet?"

"It was."

"Then, good night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some good news for you. And good night Watson," he added, as the wheels of the Royal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be good enough to call tomorrow afternoon, at three o'clock, I should like to chat this little matter over with you.

End of Part One.

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1. brougham = A horse drawn carriage with a roof, four wheels, and an open driver's seat in the front 

2. Bosewell= James Bosewell (1740 to 1795),the biographer of Samuel Johnson. Perhaps Holmes was referring to Doctor Watson, the chronicler of Sherlock Holmes.