hat he paid seven hundred pounds to a footman for
a note two lines in length, and that the ruin of a noble
family was the result. everything which is in the market
goes to milverton, and there are hundreds in this great
city who turn white at his name. no one knows where his
grip may fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning
to work from hand to mouth. he will hold a card back for
years in order to play it at the moment when the stake is
best worth winning. i have said that he is the worst man
in london, and i would ask you how could one compare the
ruffian who in hot blood bludgeons his mate with this man,
who methodically and at his leisure tortures the soul and
wrings the nerves in order to add to his already swollen
money-bags?"
i had seldom heard my friend speak with such intensity of
feeling.
"but surely," said i, "the fellow must be within the grasp
of the law?"
"technically, no doubt, but practically not. what would
it profit a woman, for example, to get him a few months'
imprisonment if her own ruin must immediately follow?
his victims dare not hit back. if ever he blackmailed an
innocent person, then, indeed, we should have him; but he
is as cunning as the evil one. no, no; we must find other
ways to fight him."
"and why is he here?"
"because an illustrious client has placed her piteous case
in my hands. it is the lady eva brackwell, the most
beautiful _debutante_ {1} of last season. she is to be
married in a fortnight to the earl of dovercourt.
this fiend has several imprudent letters -- imprudent, watson,
nothing worse -- which were written to an impecunious young
squire in the country. they would suffice to break off the
match. milverton will send the letters to the earl unless
a large sum of money is paid him. i have been commissioned
to meet him, and -- to make the best terms i can."
at that instant there was a clatter and a rattle in the
street below. looking down i saw a stately carriage and
pair, the brilliant lamps gleaming on the glossy haunches
of the noble chestnuts. a footman opened the door, and a
small, stout man in a shaggy astrachan overcoat descended.
a minute later he was in the room.
charles augustus milverton was a man of fifty, with a
large, intellectual head, a round, plump, hairless face,
a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen grey eyes, which
gleamed brightly from behind broad, golden-rimmed glasses.
there was something of mr. pickwick's benevolence in his
appearance, marred only by the insincerity of the fixed
smile and by the hard glitter of those restless and
penetrating eyes. his voice was as smooth and suave as
his countenance, as he advanced with a plump little hand
extended, murmuring his regret for having missed us at his
first visit. holmes disregarded the outstretched hand and
looked at him with a face of granite. milverton's smile
broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat,
folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair,
and then took a seat.
"this gentleman?" said he, with a wave in my direction.
"is it discreet? is it right?"
"dr. watson is my friend and partner."
"very good, mr. holmes. it is only in your client's interests
that i protested. the matter is so very delicate ----"
"dr. watson has already heard of it."
"then we can proceed to business. you say that you are acting
for lady eva. has she empowered you to accept my terms?"
"what are your terms?"
"seven thousand pounds."
"and the alternative?"
"my dear sir, it is painful for me to discuss it; but if
the money is not paid on the 14th there certainly will be
no marriage on the 18th." his insufferable smile was more
complacent than ever.
holmes thought for a little.
"you appear to me," he said, at last, "to be taking matters
too much for granted. i am, of course, familiar with the
contents of these letters. my client will certainly do
what i may advise. i shall counsel her to tell her future
husband the whole story and to trust to his generosity."
milverton chuckled.
"you evidently do not know the earl," said he.
from the baffled look upon holmes's face i could see
clearly that he did.
"what harm is there in the letters?" he asked.
"they are sprightly -- very sprightly," milverton answered.
"the lady was a charming correspondent. but i can assure
you that the earl of dovercourt would fail to appreciate
them. however, since you think otherwise, we will let it
rest at that. it is purely a matter of business. if you
think that it is in the best interests of your client that
these letters should be placed in the hands of the earl,
then you would indeed be foolish to pay so large a sum of
money to regain them." he rose and seized his astrachan
coat.
holmes was grey with anger and mortification.
"wait a little," he said. "you go too fas
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