I felt Holmes’s hand steal into mine and give me a reassuringshake, as if to say that the situation was within his powers, andthat he was easy in his mind. I was not sure whether he had seenwhat was only too obvious from my position, that the door ofthe safe was imperfectly closed, and that Milverton might at anymoment observe it. In my own mind I had determined that if Iwere sure, from the rigidity of his gaze, that it had caught his eye,would at once spring out, throw my great coat over his head,pinion him, and leave the rest to Holmes. But Milverton neverlooked up. He was languidly interested by the papers in his hand,and page after page was turned as he followed the argument of thelawyer. At least, I thought, when he has finished the document andthe cigar he will go to his room, but before he had reached the endof either, there came a remarkable development, which turned ourthoughts into quite another channel.
Several times I had observed that Milverton looked at hiswatch, and once he had risen and sat down again, with a gesture ofThe Return of Sherlock Holmes 977 impatience. The idea, however, that he might have an appointmentat so strange an hour never occurred to me until a faint soundreached my ears from the veranda outside. Milverton dropped hispapers and sat rigid in his chair. The sound was repeated, and thenthere came a gentle tap at the door. Milverton rose and opened it.
“Well,” said he, curtly, “you are nearly half an hour late.”
So this was the explanation of the unlocked door and of thenocturnal vigil of Milverton. There was the gentle rustle of awoman’s dress. I had closed the slit between the curtains asMilverton’s face had turned in our direction, but now I venturedvery carefully to open it once more. He had resumed his seat, thecigar still projecting at an insolent angle from the corner of hismouth. In front of him, in the full glare of the electric light, therestood a tall, slim, dark woman, a veil over her face, a mantle drawnround her chin. Her breath came quick and fast, and every inch ofthe lithe figure was quivering with strong emotion.
“Well,” said Milverton, “you made me lose a good night’s rest,my dear. I hope you’ll prove worth it. You couldn’t come any othertime—eh?”
The woman shook her head.
“Well, if you couldn’t you couldn’t. If the Countess is a hardmistress, you have your chance to get level with her now. Blessthe girl, what are you shivering about? That’s right. Pull yourselftogether. Now, let us get down to business.” He took a notebookfrom the drawer of his desk. “You say that you have five letterswhich compromise the Countess d’Albert. You want to sell them.
I want to buy them. So far so good. It only remains to fix a price.
I should want to inspect the letters, of course. If they are reallygood specimens—Great heavens, is it you?”
The woman, without a word, had raised her veil and droppedthe mantle from her chin. It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut facewhich confronted Milverton—a face with a curved nose, strong,dark eyebrows shading hard, glittering eyes, and a straight, thinlippedmouth set in a dangerous smile.
“It is I,” she said, “the woman whose life you have ruined.”
Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. “You wereso very obstinate,” said he. “Why did you drive me to suchextremities? I assure you I wouldn’t hurt a fly of my own accord,but every man has his business, and what was I to do? I put theprice well within your means. You would not pay.”
“So you sent the letters to my husband, and he—the noblestgentleman that ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthyto lace—he broke his gallant heart and died. You remember thatlast night, when I came through that door, I begged and prayedyou for mercy, and you laughed in my face as you are trying to978 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
laugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your lips fromtwitching. Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it wasthat night which taught me how I could meet you face to face, andalone. Well, Charles Milverton, what have you to say?”
“Don’t imagine that you can bully me,” said he, rising to his feet.
I have only to raise my voice and I could call my servants and haveyou arrested. But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leavethe room at once as you came, and I will say no more.”
The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and thesame deadly smile on her thin lips.
“You will ruin no more lives as you have ruined mine. You willwring no more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of apoisonous thing. Take that, you hound—and that!—and that!—andthat!”
She had drawn a little gleaming revolver, and emptied barrelafter barrel into Milverton’s body, the muzzle within two feet ofhis shirt front. He shrank away and then fell forward upon thetable, coughing furiously and clawing among the papers. Thenhe staggered to his feet, received another shot, and rolled uponthe floor. “You’ve done me,” he cried, and lay still. The womanlooked at him intently, and ground her heel into his upturned face.
She looked again, but there was no sound or movement. I heardsharp rustle, the night air blew into the heated room, and theavenger was gone.
No interference upon our part could have saved the manfrom his fate, but, as the woman poured bullet after bullet intoMilverton’s shrinking body I was about to spring out, when Ifelt Holmes’s cold, strong grasp upon my wrist. I understood thewhole argument of that firm, restraining grip—that it was no affairof ours, that justice had overtaken a villain, that we had our ownduties and our own objects, which were not to be lost sight of.