When we arrived at the residence of the European Secretaryit was for Lady Hilda Trelawney Hope that Sherlock Holmesinquired. We were shown into the morning-room.
“Mr. Holmes!” said the lady, and her face was pink with herindignation. “This is surely most unfair and ungenerous uponyour part. I desired, as I have explained, to keep my visit to youa secret, lest my husband should think that I was intruding intohis affairs. And yet you compromise me by coming here and soshowing that there are business relations between us.”
“Unfortunately, madam, I had no possible alternative. I havebeen commissioned to recover this immensely important paper. Imust therefore ask you, madam, to be kind enough to place it inmy hands.”
The lady sprang to her feet, with the colour all dashed in aninstant from her beautiful face. Her eyes glazed—she tottered—Ithought that she would faint. Then with a grand effort she ralliedfrom the shock, and a supreme astonishment and indignationchased every other expression from her features.
“You—you insult me, Mr. Holmes.”
“Come, come, madam, it is useless. Give up the letter.”
She darted to the bell.
“The butler shall show you out.”
“Do not ring, Lady Hilda. If you do, then all my earnest effortsto avoid a scandal will be frustrated. Give up the letter and all willbe set right. If you will work with me I can arrange everything. Ifyou work against me I must expose you.”
She stood grandly defiant, a queenly figure, her eyes fixed uponhis as if she would read his very soul. Her hand was on the bell,but she had forborne to ring it.
“You are trying to frighten me. It is not a very manly thing, Mr.
Holmes, to come here and browbeat a woman. You say that youknow something. What is it that you know?”
“Pray sit down, madam. You will hurt yourself there if you fall. Iwill not speak until you sit down. Thank you.”
“I give you five minutes, Mr. Holmes.”
“One is enough, Lady Hilda. I know of your visit to EduardoLucas, of your giving him this document, of your ingenious returnto the room last night, and of the manner in which you took theletter from the hiding-place under the carpet.”
She stared at him with an ashen face and gulped twice beforeshe could speak.
“You are mad, Mr. Holmes—you are mad!” she cried, at last.
He drew a small piece of cardboard from his pocket. It was theface of a woman cut out of a portrait.
“I have carried this because I thought it might be useful,” saidhe. “The policeman has recognized it.”
She gave a gasp, and her head dropped back in the chair.
“Come, Lady Hilda. You have the letter. The matter may still beadjusted. I have no desire to bring trouble to you. My duty endswhen I have returned the lost letter to your husband. Take myadvice and be frank with me. It is your only chance.”
Her courage was admirable. Even now she would not owndefeat.
“I tell you again, Mr. Holmes, that you are under some absurdillusion.”
Holmes rose from his chair.
“I am sorry for you, Lady Hilda. I have done my best for you. Ican see that it is all in vain.”
He rang the bell. The butler entered.
“Is Mr. Trelawney Hope at home?”
“He will be home, sir, at a quarter to one.”
Holmes glanced at his watch.
“Still a quarter of an hour,” said he. “Very good, I shall wait.”
The butler had hardly closed the door behind him whenLady Hilda was down on her knees at Holmes’s feet, her handsoutstretched, her beautiful face upturned and wet with her tears.
“Oh, spare me, Mr. Holmes! Spare me!” she pleaded, in a frenzyof supplication. “For heaven’s sake, don’t tell him! I love him so!
I would not bring one shadow on his life, and this I know wouldbreak his noble heart.”
Holmes raised the lady. “I am thankful, madam, that you havecome to your senses even at this last moment! There is not aninstant to lose. Where is the letter?”
She darted across to a writing-desk, unlocked it, and drew out along blue envelope.
“Here it is, Mr. Holmes. Would to heaven I had never seen it!”
“How can we return it?” Holmes muttered. “Quick, quick, wemust think of some way! Where is the despatch-box?”
“Still in his bedroom.”
“What a stroke of luck! Quick, madam, bring it here!” Amoment later she had appeared with a red flat box in her hand.
“How did you open it before? You have a duplicate key? Yes, ofcourse you have. Open it!”
From out of her bosom Lady Hilda had drawn a small key. Thebox flew open. It was stuffed with papers. Holmes thrust the blueenvelope deep down into the heart of them, between the leaves ofsome other document. The box was shut, locked, and returned tothe bedroom.
“Now we are ready for him,” said Holmes. “We have still tenminutes. I am going far to screen you, Lady Hilda. In return youwill spend the time in telling me frankly the real meaning of thisextraordinary affair.”
“Mr. Holmes, I will tell you everything,” cried the lady. “Oh,Mr. Holmes, I would cut off my right hand before I gave him amoment of sorrow! There is no woman in all London who lovesher husband as I do, and yet if he knew how I have acted—howI have been compelled to act—he would never forgive me. Forhis own honour stands so high that he could not forget or pardona lapse in another. Help me, Mr. Holmes! My happiness, hishappiness, our very lives are at stake!”
“Quick, madam, the time grows short!”
