minnbanya/nlp-a2-sherlock · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 88
inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like
to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else?
She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what
indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a
business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within
a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be
in her own house.”

“But it has twice been burgled.”

“Pshaw! 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 of wheels. It is her
carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.”

As he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the
curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to
the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at
the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a
copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with
the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by
the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the
scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was
struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage,
was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who
struck savagely at each other with their fists 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 in one
direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better
dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it,
crowded in to help the lady and to attend to 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 outlined against the lights of
the hall, looking back into the street.

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

“He is dead,” cried several voices.

“No, no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be gone
before you can get him to hospital.”

“He’s a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the lady’s
purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him. They were a gang, and a
rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.”

“He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?”

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

Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the
principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by
the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn,
so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know
whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he
was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of
myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I
was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon
the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes
to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened
my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I
thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from
injuring another.

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

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

“You have the photograph?”

“I know where it is.”

“And how did you find out?”

inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like

to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else?

She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what

indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a

business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within

a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be

in her own house.”

“But it has twice been burgled.”

“Pshaw! 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 of wheels. It is her

carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.”

As he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the

curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to

the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at

the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a

copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with

the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by

the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the

scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was

struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage,

was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who

struck savagely at each other with their fists 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 in one

direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better

dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it,

crowded in to help the lady and to attend to 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 outlined against the lights of

the hall, looking back into the street.

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

“He is dead,” cried several voices.

“No, no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be gone

before you can get him to hospital.”

“He’s a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the lady’s

purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him. They were a gang, and a

rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.”

“He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?”

“Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa.

This way, please!”

Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the

principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by

the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn,

so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know

whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he

was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of

myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I

was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon

the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes

to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened

my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I

thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from

injuring another.

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

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

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

rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The word was no sooner out

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

ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and servant maids—joined in a general shriek of

“Fire!” Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the

open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later

the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false

alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner

of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend’s arm

in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly

and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down one of the

quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road.

“You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have been

better. It is all right.”

“You have the photograph?”

“I know where it is.”

“And how did you find out?”