△点击播放音频

Suddenly, he stopped and listened carefully. In an instant, he closed the safe door, picked up his coat, stuffed his tools into his pockets, and darted behind the curtains. He jerked his head to signal me to do the same.

I heard a noise somewhere in the house – a quiet murmur. A door slammed in the distance. Then the murmur grew louder. It was the sound of footsteps, coming closer. They were in the passage outside the room.

The footsteps stopped. The study door opened. There was a sharp click as an electric light was turned on. The door closed again, and the strong smell of cigar smoke reached my nose. Then the footsteps moved back and forth, back and forth. My heart was in my mouth. I held my breath, afraid to make a sound.

Finally, there was a creak from a chair, and the footsteps stopped. Then a key clicked in a lock, and I heard the rustle of papers.

I carefully breathed out and wanted to see what was happening. I slowly parted the curtains and peeped through. Holmes’ shoulder was against mine, and I knew he was watching too.

Right in front of us was Milverton’s broad, rounded back. He was so close that we could almost touch him. We had been wrong about his movements — he had never been in his bedroom. He was in another room on the other side of the house. That explained why we had not seen any lights.

I focused on Milverton’s large, bald head, shining in the firelight. He was leaning back in the red leather chair, legs stretched out, with a long black cigar in his mouth.

He wore a dark red smoking jacket with a black velvet collar. In his hand he held a long, important-looking paper. He read it slowly and blew out rings of smoke now and then. He did not seem to be in a hurry.

Holmes squeezed my hand and gave it a quick reassuring shake. It meant, “All is well — don’t worry.” But I was not sure he had seen what I had seen.

The safe door was not completely closed. At any moment Milverton could have looked up and seen it. I decided that if he noticed, I would jump out, throw my coat over him and hold him down on the floor. Then I would leave the rest to Holmes.

Milverton did not look up. He turned the pages slowly and smoked his cigar.

I thought that once he had finished the paper and the cigar he would go to bed. But before he finished either, something happened.

He kept looking at his watch. At one moment he stood up, walked a little, and sat down again. He was clearly waiting for someone. But who would come so late?

A clock in the house chimed twelve. The last tone had barely died away when I heard a soft sound on the path outside. Milverton dropped his papers and sat up. I heard it again — a gentle tap at the door.

Milverton opened the door.

“Ah,” he said sharply, “you are nearly half an hour late.”

So that was why the outer door had been unlocked and why Milverton had stayed awake.

I heard the soft rustle of a woman’s dress. I had closed the tiny gap in the curtains so Milverton could not see us. Now I very carefully opened the curtains a little to look again. Milverton was sitting back in his chair, the cigar still in his mouth. Standing in the bright electric light before him was a tall, slim woman dressed in dark clothes. She wore a veil over her face and had her cloak pulled up around her chin. She was breathing fast and seemed to be shaking all over.

“You’ve kept me awake, my dear,” Milverton said. “I hope it will be worth it. Couldn’t you come at any other time?”

The woman shook her head.

“Well, if you couldn’t, you couldn’t,” Milverton said. “You told me the countess is a horrible boss. Now you have a chance to get back at her. Bless you, girl — why are you shaking? Pull yourself together! Now, let’s talk business.”

He took a paper from his desk drawer and waved it. I leaned forward and read the large handwriting.

Sir,

I have five letters that belong to the Countess d’Albert. They are private. She would not want them to be made public. I want to sell them. I will come to your house at eleven-thirty tonight.

— Her Ladyship’s personal maid

“Very good,” Milverton said. “All I need is to set a price. Of course I must see the letters first. If they are really valuable— Good heavens, is that you?”

The woman had taken off her veil without a word. I saw a dark, handsome face. Her nose was curved, her eyebrows were strong, and her eyes shone. Her mouth was thin and looked like it could be cruel. She smiled in a way that made me uneasy.

“It is I,” she said. “I am the woman whose life you have ruined.”

Milverton laughed, but there was fear in his voice. “You were very stubborn,” he said. “Why did you make me do such a thing? I would not hurt a fly normally. But I must do my business. I asked for a small amount of money. I knew you could pay, but you did not.”

“I did not,” the woman said, staring at him without blinking. “Two weeks ago you sent those letters to my husband. He was the finest man I know. It broke his heart. He died. He was a man I was never good enough for. ” Her voice shook, but she continued.

“Do you remember the night I came to you and begged you for mercy? You laughed in my face, just like you are doing now. Now your cowardly smile cannot hide your fear. You never thought I would come back, did you? That night taught me I could face you alone. Now, Charles Milverton, what do you have to say?”

“You cannot bully me,” he said, standing up. “I will call my servants and they will have you arrested in minutes. But I will forgive your anger. Leave now, and I will say nothing more.”

The woman kept her head high. She did not look angry in the usual way; she looked calm and dangerous, with the same thin, deadly smile on her lips.

“You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine,” the woman said. “You will break no more hearts as you broke mine. I will stop you.”

She took a small gun from under her cloak and pointed it at Milverton.

“Take that, you hound! And that, and that!”

She fired again and again.

Milverton fell forward onto the table, coughing and clutching at the papers. He tried to get up, but she shot him once more. He collapsed to the floor and did not move. The woman stood and looked at his still body.

There was nothing we could have done to save him. I wanted to jump out and stop her, but Holmes held my wrist with a hard, cold grip. I understood what he meant. We must not interrupt now. This was not for us to stop. The woman had carried out her own justice. We had our own task.

The woman looked at Milverton one last time, then walked out into the night. Almost immediately we heard voices and feet running. The shots had woken the servants.

Holmes moved quickly. He stepped from behind the curtain to the other door and locked it. Then, very calmly, he went to the safe. He took out bundle after bundle of letters and threw them into the fire. He kept doing this until the safe was empty.

Someone was pulling at the outer door and shouting. Holmes grabbed the letter that had caused everything — it lay on the table covered in blood — and tossed it into the flames, too. Then he took the key from the door, opened it, and led me out onto the tiled path. He locked the door behind us.

“Come this way, Watson. We can climb the garden wall and get away,” he whispered, and ran into the bushes.

As we looked back while running, every window in the house was lit. The front door stood open and people poured out — maids, cooks, butlers, footmen. One man saw us and shouted, then started to run after us.

Holmes knew the garden well. He moved quickly between the small trees and I followed close behind. The man chasing us was tired and soon began to fall behind.

The garden wall was six feet high, but Holmes easily climbed over it. I tried to follow. I had one foot on top of the wall and was about to pull the other up when I felt a man grab my ankle. I tried to shake him off, but I was losing my grip. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if he pulled me down.

Fear gave me extra strength. I kicked out with my trapped foot. The man yelled when my heel hit his face, and he let go of my ankle. I scrambled over the mossy wall and fell into the bushes on the other side.

Holmes helped me up, and together we ran across Hampstead Heath. I didn’t know if the man was still following us. It’s amazing how the body finds energy when needed. I had never run so fast or so far as that night.

After about two miles, Holmes finally stopped. We stood gasping, trying to catch our breath. Behind us, there was complete silence. We had lost anyone following us and were safe.

I smiled in the darkness. “You are very fit, Holmes. Surprising since you don’t exercise much.”

“As are you, Watson. All that tennis must help,” he replied.

We made our way home and were happy to fall into our beds. The next morning, just after breakfast, there was a knock at the door. Mr. Lestrade from Scotland Yard was shown into our sitting room. He looked very serious.

“Good morning, Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson,” he said. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not too busy to listen to you,” replied Holmes.

“I thought if you had time, you could help me with a case. It’s a very strange one. It happened last night in Hampstead.”

“Dear me,” said Holmes. “What happened?”

“A murder, a dramatic and shocking murder. I know you enjoy these cases. It would be a great help if you went to Appledore Towers and gave us your advice. This is no ordinary crime. We have been watching Mr. Milverton for some time. He was a villain, holding papers he used to blackmail people. All the papers have been burned by the murderers. No money or valuables were taken. We believe the murderers only wanted to stop the secrets from being revealed.”

“Murderers!” cried Holmes. “More than one?”

“Yes, there were two of them. They were almost caught. We have their footprints and descriptions. I’m sure we will catch them. The first man was quick and active. But the second man was caught by the gardener as he climbed the wall. He only escaped after a struggle. He was medium-sized, strong, with a square jaw, thick neck, a moustache, and a mask over his eyes.”

“That’s not very clear,” said Holmes, turning to me with a sparkle in his eye. “Why, that description could even be about you, Watson!”

“It’s true,” said the inspector with a smile. “It could easily describe Watson.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you, Lestrade,” said Holmes. “The truth is, I knew this man, Milverton. He was one of the most dangerous men in London. There are some crimes that the law cannot touch. In these cases, private revenge can be acceptable. No, don’t argue. I’ve made up my mind. I believe the criminals had a very good reason to kill him. I will not take this case.”

Holmes and I had not spoken about what happened the night before. But all morning I could see he was deep in thought. His eyes looked empty, as if he were trying to remember something very important.

We were in the middle of our lunch when he suddenly jumped to his feet.

“By Jove, Watson! I know who she was!” Holmes cried. “Grab your hat! Come with me!”

We ran quickly down Baker Street, then along Oxford Street, almost reaching Regent Circus. On the left, a shop window was full of celebrity photographs. Holmes stopped and stared at one of them. It was a noble-looking lady, dressed very elegantly. She wore a tall diamond tiara on her head.

I looked closely at her delicate nose, neat eyebrows, straight mouth, and strong little chin. Below the picture were her name and the name of the great nobleman she had married. I gasped.

I looked at Holmes. He put his finger to his lips as we turned away from the window and continued walking.