which were not to be lost sight of. but hardly had
the woman rushed from the room when holmes, with swift,
silent steps, was over at the other door. he turned the
key in the lock. at the same instant we heard voices in
the house and the sound of hurrying feet. the revolver
shots had roused the household. with perfect coolness
holmes slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with
bundles of letters, and poured them all into the fire.
again and again he did it, until the safe was empty.
someone turned the handle and beat upon the outside of the
door. holmes looked swiftly round. the letter which had
been the messenger of death for milverton lay, all mottled
with his blood, upon the table. holmes tossed it in among
the blazing papers. then he drew the key from the outer
door, passed through after me, and locked it on the
outside. "this way, watson," said he; "we can scale the
garden wall in this direction."
i could not have believed that an alarm could have spread
so swiftly. looking back, the huge house was one blaze of
light. the front door was open, and figures were rushing
down the drive. the whole garden was alive with people,
and one fellow raised a view-halloa as we emerged from the
veranda and followed hard at our heels. holmes seemed to
know the ground perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly
among a plantation of small trees, i close at his heels,
and our foremost pursuer panting behind us. it was a
six-foot wall which barred our path, but he sprang to the
top and over. as i did the same i felt the hand of the man
behind me grab at my ankle; but i kicked myself free and
scrambled over a glass-strewn coping. i fell upon my face
among some bushes; but holmes had me on my feet in an
instant, and together we dashed away across the huge
expanse of hampstead heath. we had run two miles, i
suppose, before holmes at last halted and listened
intently. all was absolute silence behind us. we had
shaken off our pursuers and were safe.
we had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the
day after the remarkable experience which i have recorded
when mr. lestrade, of scotland yard, very solemn and
impressive, was ushered into our modest sitting-room.
"good morning, mr. holmes," said he; "good morning.
may i ask if you are very busy just now?"
"not too busy to listen to you."
"i thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on
hand, you might care to assist us in a most remarkable case
which occurred only last night at hampstead."
"dear me!" said holmes. "what was that?"
"a murder -- a most dramatic and remarkable murder. i know
how keen you are upon these things, and i would take it as
a great favour if you would step down to appledore towers
and give us the benefit of your advice. it is no ordinary
crime. we have had our eyes upon this mr. milverton for
some time, and, between ourselves, he was a bit of a
villain. he is known to have held papers which he used for
blackmailing purposes. these papers have all been burned
by the murderers. no article of value was taken, as it is
probable that the criminals were men of good position,
whose sole object was to prevent social exposure."
"criminals!" said holmes. "plural!"
"yes, there were two of them. they were, as nearly as
possible, captured red-handed. we have their foot-marks,
we have their description; it's ten to one that we trace
them. the first fellow was a bit too active, but the
second was caught by the under-gardener and only got away
after a struggle. he was a middle-sized, strongly-built
man -- square jaw, thick neck, moustache, a mask over his
eyes."
"that's rather vague," said sherlock holmes. "why, it
might be a description of watson!"
"it's true," said the inspector, with much amusement.
"it might be a description of watson."
"well, i am afraid i can't help you, lestrade," said
holmes. "the fact is that i knew this fellow milverton,
that i considered him one of the most dangerous men in
london, and that i think there are certain crimes which the
law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent,
justify private revenge. no, it's no use arguing. i have
made up my mind. my sympathies are with the criminals
rather than with the victim, and i will not handle this case."
holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy which
we had witnessed, but i observed all the morning that he
was in his most thoughtful mood, and he gave me the
impression, from his vacant eyes and his abstracted manner,
of a man who is striving to recall something to his memory.
we were in the middle of our lunch when he suddenly sprang
to his feet. "by jove, watson; i've got it!" he cried.
"take your hat! come with me!" he hurried at his top
speed down baker street and along oxford street, until we
had almost reached regent
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