It was a good fire, and the room was illuminated by it. Nearthe door I saw the gleam of an electric switch, but it wasunnecessary, even if it had been safe, to turn it on. At one side ofthe fireplace was a heavy curtain which covered the bay windowwe had seen from outside. On the other side was the door whichcommunicated with the veranda. A desk stood in the centre,with a turning-chair of shining red leather. Opposite was a largebookcase, with a marble bust of Athene on the top. In the corner,between the bookcase and the wall, there stood a tall, green safe,the firelight flashing back from the polished brass knobs uponits face. Holmes stole across and looked at it. Then he crept tothe door of the bedroom, and stood with slanting head listeningThe Return of Sherlock Holmes 975 intently. No sound came from within. Meanwhile it had struck methat it would be wise to secure our retreat through the outer door,so I examined it. To my amazement, it was neither locked norbolted. I touched Holmes on the arm, and he turned his maskedface in that direction. I saw him start, and he was evidently assurprised as I.
“I don’t like it,” he whispered, putting his lips to my very ear. “Ican’t quite make it out. Anyhow, we have no time to lose.”
“Can I do anything?”
“Yes, stand by the door. If you hear anyone come, bolt it on theinside, and we can get away as we came. If they come the otherway, we can get through the door if our job is done, or hide behindthese window curtains if it is not. Do you understand?”
I nodded, and stood by the door. My first feeling of fear hadpassed away, and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I hadever enjoyed when we were the defenders of the law instead ofits defiers. The high object of our mission, the consciousness thatit was unselfish and chivalrous, the villainous character of ouropponent, all added to the sporting interest of the adventure.
Far from feeling guilty, I rejoiced and exulted in our dangers.
With a glow of admiration I watched Holmes unrolling his caseof instruments and choosing his tool with the calm, scientificaccuracy of a surgeon who performs a delicate operation. I knewthat the opening of safes was a particular hobby with him, andI understood the joy which it gave him to be confronted withthis green and gold monster, the dragon which held in its mawthe reputations of many fair ladies. Turning up the cuffs of hisdress-coat—he had placed his overcoat on a chair—Holmes laidout two drills, a jemmy, and several skeleton keys. I stood at thecentre door with my eyes glancing at each of the others, ready forany emergency, though, indeed, my plans were somewhat vagueas to what I should do if we were interrupted. For half an hour,Holmes worked with concentrated energy, laying down one tool,picking up another, handling each with the strength and delicacyof the trained mechanic. Finally I heard a click, the broad greendoor swung open, and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paperpackets, each tied, sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out,but it was as hard to read by the flickering fire, and he drew out hislittle dark lantern, for it was too dangerous, with Milverton in thenext room, to switch on the electric light. Suddenly I saw him halt,listen intently, and then in an instant he had swung the door of thesafe to, picked up his coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, anddarted behind the window curtain, motioning me to do the same.
It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what hadalarmed his quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within976 The Complete Sherlock Holmes the house. A door slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dullmurmur broke itself into the measured thud of heavy footstepsrapidly approaching. They were in the passage outside the room.
They paused at the door. The door opened. There was a sharpsnick as the electric light was turned on. The door closed oncemore, and the pungent reek of a strong cigar was borne to ournostrils. Then the footsteps continued backward and forward,backward and forward, within a few yards of us. Finally there wascreak from a chair, and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clickedin a lock, and I heard the rustle of papers.
So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted thedivision of the curtains in front of me and peeped through. Fromthe pressure of Holmes’s shoulder against mine, I knew that hewas sharing my observations. Right in front of us, and almostwithin our reach, was the broad, rounded back of Milverton. Itwas evident that we had entirely miscalculated his movements,that he had never been to his bedroom, but that he had beensitting up in some smoking or billiard room in the farther wingof the house, the windows of which we had not seen. His broad,grizzled head, with its shining patch of baldness, was in theimmediate foreground of our vision. He was leaning far back inthe red leather chair, his legs outstretched, a long, black cigarprojecting at an angle from his mouth. He wore a semi-militarysmoking jacket, claret-coloured, with a black velvet collar. In hishand he held a long, legal document which he was reading in anindolent fashion, blowing rings of tobacco smoke from his lipsas he did so. There was no promise of a speedy departure in hiscomposed bearing and his comfortable attitude.