Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

His Last Bow THE BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANS

IN THE third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fogsettled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday I doubtwhether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to see theloom of the opposite houses. The first day Holmes had spent in crossindexing his huge book of references. The second and third had beenpatiently occupied upon a subject which he had recently made hishobby-the music of the Middle Ages. But when, for the fourth time, afterpushing back our chairs from breakfast we saw the greasy, heavy brownswirl still drifting past us and condensing in oily drops upon the windowpanes, my comrade's impatient and active nature could endure this drabexistence no longer. He paced restlessly about our sitting-room in a feverof suppressed energy, biting his nails, tapping the furniture, and chafingagainst inaction."Nothing of interest in the paper, Watson?" he said.I was aware that by anything of interest, Holmes meant anything ofcriminal interest. There was the news of a revolution, of a possible war,and of an impending change of government; but these did not comewithin the horizon of my companion. I could see nothing recorded in theshape of crime which was not commonplace and futile. Holmes groanedand resumed his restless meanderings."The London criminal is certainly a dull fellow," said he in thequerulous voice of the sportsman whose game has failed him. "Look outof this window, Watson. See how the figures loom up, are dimly seen,and then blend once more into the cloud-bank. The thief or the murderercould roam London on such a day as the tiger does the jungle, unseenuntil he pounces, and then evident only to his victim.""There have," said I, "been numerous petty thefts."Holmes snorted his contempt."This great and sombre stage is set for something more worthy thanthat, " said he. "It is fortunate for this community that I am not acriminal."[914] "It is, indeed!" said I heartily."Suppose that I were Brooks or Woodhouse, or any of the fifty menwho have good reason for taking my life, how long could I surviveagainst my own pursuit? A summons, a bogus appointment, and all wouldbe over. It is well they don't have days of fog in the Latin countries-thecountries of assassination. By Jove! here comes something at last to breakour dead monotony."It was the maid with a telegram. Holmes tore it open and burst outlaughing."Well, well! What next?" said he. "Brother Mycroft is coming round." "Why not?" I asked."Why not? It is as if you met a tram-car coming down a country lane.Mycroft has his rails and he runs on them. His Pall Mall lodgings, theDiogenes Club, Whitehall-that is his cycle. Once, and only once, he hasbeen here. What upheaval can possibly have derailed him?""Does he not explain?"Holmes handed me his brother's telegram.Must see you over Cadogan West. Coming at once.MYCROFT."Cadogan West? I have heard the name.""It recalls nothing to my mind. But that Mycroft should break out inthis erratic fashion! A planet might as well leave its orbit. By the way, doyou know what Mycroft is?"I had some vague recollection of an explanation at the time of theAdventure of the Greek Interpreter."You told me that he had some small office under the Britishgovernment."Holmes chuckled."I did not know you quite so well in those days. One has to be discreetwhen one talks of high matters of state. You are right in thinking that heis under the British government. You would also be right in a sense if yousaid that occasionally he is the British government.""My dear Holmes!""I thought I might surprise you. Mycroft draws four hundred and fiftypounds a year, remains a subordinate, has no ambitions of any kind, willreceive neither honour nor title, but remains the most indispensable manin the country.""But how?""Well, his position is unique. He has made it for himself. There hasnever been anything like it before, nor will be again. He has the tidiestand most orderly brain, with the greatest capacity for storing facts, of anyman living. The same great powers which I have turned to the detectionof crime he has used for this particular business. The conclusions of everydepartment are passed to him, and he is the central exchange, the clearinghouse, which makes out the balance. All other men are specialists, but hisspecialism is omniscience. We will suppose that a minister needsinformation as to a point which involves the Navy, India, Canada and thebimetallic question; he could get his separate advices from variousdepartments upon each, but only Mycroft can focus them all, and sayoffhand how each factor would affect the other. They began by using himas a short-cut, a convenience; now he has made himself an essential. Inthat great brain of his everything is pigeon-holed and can be handed out inan instant. Again and again his word has decided the national policy. Helives in it. He thinks of nothing else [915] save when, as an intellectualexercise, he unbends if I call upon him and ask him to advise me on oneof my little problems. But Jupiter is descending to-day. What on earth canit mean? Who is Cadogan West, and what is he to Mycroft?" "I have it," I cried, and plunged among the litter of papers upon thesofa. "Yes, yes, here he is, sure enough! Cadogan West was the youngman who was found dead on the Underground on Tuesday morning."Holmes sat up at attention, his pipe halfway to his lips."This must be serious, Watson. A death which has caused my brotherto alter his habits can be no ordinary one. What in the world can he haveto do with it? The case was featureless as I remember it. The young manhad apparently fallen out of the train and killed himself. He had not beenrobbed, and there was no particular reason to suspect violence. Is that notso?""There has been an inquest," said I, "and a good many fresh facts havecome out. Looked at more closely, I should certainly say that it was acurious case.""Judging by its effect upon my brother, I should think it must be a mostextraordinary one." He snuggled down in his armchair. "Now, Watson, letus have the facts.""The man's name was Arthur Cadogan West. He was twenty-sevenyears of age, unmarried, and a clerk at Woolwich Arsenal.""Government employ. Behold the link with Brother Mycroft!""He left Woolwich suddenly on Monday night. Was last seen by hisfiancee, Miss Violet Westbury, whom he left abruptly in the fog about7:30 that evening. There was no quarrel between them and she can giveno motive for his action. The next thing heard of him was when his deadbody was discovered by a plate-layer named Mason, just outside AldgateStation on the Underground system in London.""When?""The body was found at six on the Tuesday morning. It was lying wideof the metals upon the left hand of the track as one goes eastward, at apoint close to the station, where the line emerges from the tunnel in whichit runs. The head was badly crushed-an injury which might well havebeen caused by a fall from the train. The body could only have come onthe line in that way. Had it been carried down from any neighbouringstreet, it must have passed the station barriers, where a collector is alwaysstanding. This point seems absolutely certain.""Very good. The case is definite enough. The man, dead or alive, eitherfell or was precipitated from a train. So much is clear to me. Continue.""The trains which traverse the lines of rail beside which the body wasfound are those which run from west to east, some being purelyMetropolitan, and some from Willesden and outlying junctions. It can bestated for certain that this young man, when he met his death, wastravelling in this direction at some late hour of the night, but at what pointhe entered the train it is impossible to state.""His ticket, of course, would show that.""There was no ticket in his pockets.""No ticket! Dear me, Watson, this is really very singular. According tomy experience it is not possible to reach the platform of a Metropolitantrain without exhibiting one's ticket. Presumably, then, the young manhad one. Was it taken from him in order to conceal the station from whichhe came? It is possible. Or did he drop it in the carriage? That also is possible. But the point is of curious interest. I understand that there wasno sign of robbery?""Apparently not. There is a list here of his possessions. His pursecontained two [916] pounds fifteen. He had also a check-book on theWoolwich branch of the Capital and Counties Bank. Through this hisidentity was established. There were also two dress-circle tickets for theWoolwich Theatre, dated for that very evening. Also a small packet oftechnical papers."Holmes gave an exclamation of satisfaction."There we have it at last, Watson! British government-Woolwich.Arsenal-technical papers-Brother Mycroft, the chain is complete. Buthere he comes, if I am not mistaken, to speak for himself."A moment later the tall and portly form of Mycroft Holmes wasushered into the room. Heavily built and massive, there was a suggestionof uncouth physical inertia in the figure, but above this unwieldy framethere was perched a head so masterful in its brow, so alert in its steelgray, deep-set eyes, so firm in its lips, and so subtle in its play ofexpression, that after the first glance one forgot the gross body andremembered only the dominant mind.At his heels came our old friend Lestrade, of Scotland Yard-thin andaustere. The gravity of both their faces foretold some weighty quest. Thedetective shook hands without a word. Mycroft Holmes struggled out ofhis overcoat and subsided into an armchair."A most annoying business, Sherlock," said he. "I extremely dislikealtering my habits, but the powers that be would take no denial. In thepresent state of Siam it is most awkward that I should be away from theoffice. But it is a real crisis. I have never seen the Prime Minister soupset. As to the Admiralty-it is buzzing like an overturned bee-hive. Have you read up the case?""We have just done so. What were the technical papers?""Ah, there's the point! Fortunately, it has not come out. The presswould be furious if it did. The papers which this wretched youth had inhis pocket were the plans of the Bruce-Partington submarine."Mycroft Holmes spoke with a solemnity which showed his sense of theimportance of the subject. His brother and I sat expectant."Surely you have heard of it? I thought everyone had heard of it.""Only as a name.""Its importance can hardly be exaggerated. It has been the mostjealously guarded of all government secrets. You may take it from me thatnaval warfare becomes impossible within the radius of a BrucePartington's operation. Two years ago a very large sum was smuggledthrough the Estimates and was expended in acquiring a monopoly of theinvention. Every effort has been made to keep the secret. The plans,which are exceedingly intricate, comprising some thirty separate patents,each essential to the working of the whole, are kept in an elaborate safe ina confidential office adjoining the arsenal, with burglar-proof doors andwindows. Under no conceivable circumstances were the plans to be takenfrom the office. If the chief constructor of the Navy desired to consultthem, even he was forced to go to the Woolwich office for the purpose.And yet here we find them in the pocket of a dead junior clerk in the heartof London. From an official point of view it's simply awful.""But you have recovered them?""No, Sherlock, no! That's the pinch. We have not. Ten papers weretaken from Woolwich. There were seven in the pocket of Cadogan West.The three most essential are gone-stolen, vanished. You must dropeverything, Sherlock. Never mind your usual petty puzzles of the policecourt. It's a vital international problem [917] that you have to solve. Whydid Cadogan West take the papers, where are the missing ones, how didhe die, how came his body where it was found, how can the evil be setright? Find an answer to all these questions, and you will have done goodservice for your country.""Why do you not solve it yourself, Mycroft? You can see as far as I.""Possibly, Sherlock. But it is a question of getting details. Give meyour details, and from an armchair I will return you an excellent expertopinion. But to run here and run there, to cross-question railway guards,and lie on my face with a lens to my eye-it is not my métier. No, you arethe one man who can clear the matter up. If you have a fancy to see yourname in the next honours list- -"My friend smiled and shook his head."I play the game for the game's own sake," said he. "But the problemcertainly presents some points of interest, and I shall be very pleased tolook into it. Some more facts, please.""I have jotted down the more essential ones upon this sheet of paper,together with a few addresses which you will find of service. The actualofficial guardian of the papers is the famous government expert, SirJames Walter, whose decorations and sub-titles fill two lines of a book ofreference. He has grown gray in the service, is a gentleman, a favoured guest in the most exalted houses, and, above all, a man whose patriotismis beyond suspicion. He is one of two who have a key of the safe. I mayadd that the papers were undoubtedly in the office during working hourson Monday, and that Sir James left for London about three o'clock takinghis key with him. He was at the house of Admiral Sinclair at BarclaySquare during the whole of the evening when this incident occurred.""Has the fact been verified?""Yes; his brother, Colonel Valentine Walter, has testified to hisdeparture from Woolwich, and Admiral Sinclair to his arrival in London;so Sir James is no longer a direct factor in the problem.""Who was the other man with a key?""The senior clerk and draughtsman, Mr. Sidney Johnson. He is a manof forty, married, with five children. He is a silent, morose man, but hehas, on the whole, an excellent record in the public service. He isunpopular with his colleagues, but a hard worker. According to his ownaccount, corroborated only by the word of his wife, he was at home thewhole of Monday evening after office hours, and his key has never leftthe watch-chain upon which it hangs.""Tell us about Cadogan West.""He has been ten years in the service and has done good work. He hasthe reputation of being hot-headed and impetuous, but a straight, honestman. We have nothing against him. He was next Sidney Johnson in theoffice. His duties brought him into daily, personal contact with the plans.No one else had the handling of them.""Who locked the plans up that night?""Mr. Sidney Johnson, the senior clerk.""Well, it is surely perfectly clear who took them away. They areactually found upon the person of this junior clerk, Cadogan West. Thatseems final, does it not?""It does, Sherlock, and yet it leaves so much unexplained. In the firstplace, why did he take them?""I presume they were of value?""He could have got several thousands for them very easily."[918] "Can you suggest any possible motive for taking the papers toLondon except to sell them?""No, I cannot.""Then we must take that as our working hypothesis. Young West tookthe papers. Now this could only be done by having a false key- -""Several false keys. He had to open the building and the room.""He had, then, several false keys. He took the papers to London to sellthe secret, intending, no doubt, to have the plans themselves back in thesafe next morning before they were missed. While in London on thistreasonable mission he met his end.""How?""We will suppose that he was travelling back to Woolwich when hewas killed and thrown out of the compartment.""Aldgate, where the body was found, is considerably past the stationfor London Bridge, which would be his route to Woolwich.""Many circumstances could be imagined under which he would pass London Bridge. There was someone in the carriage, for example, withwhom he was having an absorbing interview. This interview led to aviolent scene in which he lost his life. Possibly he tried to leave thecarriage, fell out on the line, and so met his end. The other closed thedoor. There was a thick fog, and nothing could be seen.""No better explanation can be given with our present knowledge; andyet consider, Sherlock, how much you leave untouched. We will suppose,for argument's sake, that young Cadogan West had determined to conveythese papers to London. He would naturally have made an appointmentwith the foreign agent and kept his evening clear. Instead of that he tooktwo tickets for the theatre, escorted his fiancee halfway there, and thensuddenly disappeared.""A blind," said Lestrade, who had sat listening with some impatience tothe conversation."A very singular one. That is objection No. 1. Objection No. 2: We willsuppose that he reaches London and sees the foreign agent. He must bringback the papers before morning or the loss will be discovered. He tookaway ten. Only seven were in his pocket. What had become of the otherthree? He certainly would not leave them of his own free will. Then,again, where is the price of his treason? One would have expected to finda large sum of money in his pocket.""It seems to me perfectly clear," said Lestrade. "I have no doubt at allas to what occurred. He took the papers to sell them. He saw the agent.They could not agree as to price. He started home again, but the agentwent with him. In the train the agent murdered him, took the moreessential papers, and threw his body from the carriage. That wouldaccount for everything, would it not?""Why had he no ticket?""The ticket would have shown which station was nearest the agent'shouse. Therefore he took it from the murdered man's pocket.""Good, Lestrade, very good," said Holmes. "Your theory holdstogether. But if this is true, then the case is at an end. On the one hand, thetraitor is dead. On the other, the plans of the Bruce-Partington submarineare presumably already on the Continent. What is there for us to do?""To act, Sherlock-to act!" cried Mycroft, springing to his feet. "All myinstincts are against this explanation. Use your powers! Go to the scene ofthe crime! See [919] the people concerned! Leave no stone unturned! In allyour career you have never had so great a chance of serving yourcountry.""Well, well!" said Holmes, shrugging his shoulders. "Come, Watson!And you, Lestrade, could you favour us with your company for an hour ortwo? We will begin our investigation by a visit to Aldgate Station. Goodbye, Mycroft. I shall let you have a report before evening, but I warn youin advance that you have little to expect."An hour later Holmes, Lestrade and I stood upon the Undergroundrailroad at the point where it emerges from the tunnel immediately beforeAldgate Station. A courteous red-faced old gentleman represented therailway company."This is where the young man's body lay," said he, indicating a spot about three feet from the metals. "It could not have fallen from above, forthese, as you see, are all blank walls. Therefore, it could only have comefrom a train, and that train, so far as we can trace it, must have passedabout midnight on Monday.""Have the carriages been examined for any sign of violence?""There are no such signs, and no ticket has been found.""No record of a door being found open?""None.""We have had some fresh evidence this morning," said Lestrade. "Apassenger who passed Aldgate in an ordinary Metropolitan train about11:40 on Monday night declares that he heard a heavy thud, as of a bodystriking the line, just before the train reached the station. There was densefog, however, and nothing could be seen. He made no report of it at thetime. Why, whatever is the matter with Mr. Holmes?"My friend was standing with an expression of strained intensity uponhis face, staring at the railway metals where they curved out of the tunnel.Aldgate is a junction, and there was a network of points. On these hiseager, questioning eyes were fixed, and I saw on his keen, alert face thattightening of the lips, that quiver of the nostrils, and concentration of theheavy, tufted brows which I knew so well."Points," he muttered; "the points.""What of it? What do you mean?""I suppose there are no great number of points on a system such asthis?""No; there are very few." "And a curve, too. Points, and a curve. By Jove! if it were only so.""What is it, Mr. Holmes? Have you a clue?""An idea-an indication, no more. But the case certainly grows ininterest. Unique, perfectly unique, and yet why not? I do not see anyindications of bleeding on the line.""There were hardly any.""But I understand that there was a considerable wound.""The bone was crushed, but there was no great external injury.""And yet one would have expected some bleeding. Would it bepossible for me to inspect the train which contained the passenger whoheard the thud of a fall in the fog?""I fear not, Mr. Holmes. The train has been broken up before now, andthe carriages redistributed.""I can assure you, Mr. Holmes," said Lestrade, "that every carriage hasbeen carefully examined. I saw to it myself."[920] It was one of my friend's most obvious weaknesses that he wasimpatient with less alert intelligences than his own."Very likely," said he, turning away. "As it happens, it was not thecarriages which I desired to examine. Watson, we have done all we canhere. We need not trouble you any further, Mr. Lestrade. I think ourinvestigations must now carry us to Woolwich."At London Bridge, Holmes wrote a telegram to his brother, which hehanded to me before dispatching it. It ran thus:See some light in the darkness, but it may possibly flicker out.Meanwhile, please send by messenger, to await return at BakerStreet, a complete list of all foreign spies or international agentsknown to be in England, with full address.SHERLOCK."That should be helpful, Watson," he remarked as we took our seats inthe Woolwich train. "We certainly owe Brother Mycroft a debt for havingintroduced us to what promises to be a really very remarkable case."His eager face still wore that expression of intense and high-strungenergy, which showed me that some novel and suggestive circumstancehad opened up a stimulating line of thought. See the foxhound withhanging ears and drooping tail as it lolls about the kennels, and compare itwith the same hound as, with gleaming eyes and straining muscles, it runsupon a breast-high scent -such was the change in Holmes since themorning. He was a different man from the limp and lounging figure in themouse-coloured dressing-gown who had prowled so restlessly only a fewhours before round the fog-girt room."There is material here. There is scope," said he. "I am dull indeed notto have understood its possibilities.""Even now they are dark to me.""The end is dark to me also, but I have hold of one idea which may leadus far. The man met his death elsewhere, and his body was on the roof ofa carriage.""On the roof!" "Remarkable, is it not? But consider the facts. Is it a coincidence that itis found at the very point where the train pitches and sways as it comesround on the points? Is not that the place where an object upon the roofmight be expected to fall off? The points would affect no object inside thetrain. Either the body fell from the roof, or a very curious coincidence hasoccurred. But now consider the question of the blood. Of course, therewas no bleeding on the line if the body had bled elsewhere. Each fact issuggestive in itself. Together they have a cumulative force.""And the ticket, too!" I cried."Exactly. We could not explain the absence of a ticket. This wouldexplain it. Everything fits together.""But suppose it were so, we are still as far as ever from unravelling themystery of his death. Indeed, it becomes not simpler but stranger.""Perhaps," said Holmes thoughtfully, "perhaps." He relapsed into asilent reverie, which lasted until the slow train drew up at last inWoolwich Station. There he called a cab and drew Mycroft's paper fromhis pocket."We have quite a little round of afternoon calls to make," said he. "Ithink that Sir James Walter claims our first attention."[921] The house of the famous official was a fine villa with green lawnsstretching down to the Thames. As we reached it the fog was lifting, and athin, watery sunshine was breaking through. A butler answered our ring."Sir James, sir!" said he with solemn face. "Sir James died thismorning.""Good heavens!" cried Holmes in amazement. "How did he die?""Perhaps you would care to step in, sir, and see his brother, ColonelValentine?""Yes, we had best do so."We were ushered into a dim-lit drawing-room, where an instant laterwe were joined by a very tall, handsome, light-bearded man of fifty, theyounger brother of the dead scientist. His wild eyes, stained cheeks, andunkempt hair all spoke of the sudden blow which had fallen upon thehousehold. He was hardly articulate as he spoke of it."It was this horrible scandal," said he. "My brother, Sir James, was aman of very sensitive honour, and he could not survive such an affair. Itbroke his heart. He was always so proud of the efficiency of hisdepartment, and this was a crushing blow.""We had hoped that he might have given us some indications whichwould have helped us to clear the matter up.""I assure you that it was all a mystery to him as it is to you and to all ofus. He had already put all his knowledge at the disposal of the police.Naturally he had no doubt that Cadogan West was guilty. But all the restwas inconceivable.""You cannot throw any new light upon the affair?""I know nothing myself save what I have read or heard. I have nodesire to be discourteous, but you can understand, Mr. Holmes, that weare much disturbed at present, and I must ask you to hasten this interviewto an end.""This is indeed an unexpected development," said my friend when we had regained the cab. "I wonder if the death was natural, or whether thepoor old fellow killed himself! If the latter, may it be taken as some signof self-reproach for duty neglected? We must leave that question to thefuture. Now we shall turn to the Cadogan Wests."A small but well-kept house in the outskirts of the town sheltered thebereaved mother. The old lady was too dazed with grief to be of any useto us, but at her side was a white-faced young lady, who introducedherself as Miss Violet Westbury, the fiancee of the dead man, and the lastto see him upon that fatal night."I cannot explain it, Mr. Holmes," she said. "I have not shut an eyesince the tragedy, thinking, thinking, thinking, night and day, what thetrue meaning of it can be. Arthur was the most single-minded, chivalrous,patriotic man upon earth. He would have cut his right hand off before hewould sell a State secret confided to his keeping. It is absurd, impossible,preposterous to anyone who knew him.""But the facts, Miss Westbury?""Yes, yes; I admit I cannot explain them.""Was he in any want of money?""No; his needs were very simple and his salary ample. He had saved afew hundreds, and we were to marry at the New Year.""No signs of any mental excitement? Come, Miss Westbury, beabsolutely frank with us."The quick eye of my companion had noted some change in her manner.She coloured and hesitated."Yes," she said at last, "I had a feeling that there was something on hismind.""For long?"[922] "Only for the last week or so. He was thoughtful and worried.Once I pressed him about it. He admitted that there was something, andthat it was concerned with his official life. 'It is too serious for me tospeak about, even to you,' said he. I could get nothing more."Holmes looked grave."Go on, Miss Westbury. Even if it seems to tell against him, go on. Wecannot say what it may lead to.""Indeed, I have nothing more to tell. Once or twice it seemed to me thathe was on the point of telling me something. He spoke one evening of theimportance of the secret, and I have some recollection that he said that nodoubt foreign spies would pay a great deal to have it."My friend's face grew graver still."Anything else?""He said that we were slack about such matters-that it would be easyfor a traitor to get the plans.""Was it only recently that he made such remarks?""Yes, quite recently.""Now tell us of that last evening.""We were to go to the theatre. The fog was so thick that a cab wasuseless. We walked, and our way took us close to the office. Suddenly hedarted away into the fog.""Without a word?" "He gave an exclamation; that was all. I waited but he never returned.Then I walked home. Next morning, after the office opened, they came toinquire. About twelve o'clock we heard the terrible news. Oh, Mr.Holmes, if you could only, only save his honour! It was so much to him."Holmes shook his head sadly."Come, Watson," said he, "our ways lie elsewhere. Our next stationmust be the office from which the papers were taken."It was black enough before against this young man, but our inquiriesmake it blacker," he remarked as the cab lumbered off. "His comingmarriage gives a motive for the crime. He naturally wanted money. Theidea was in his head, since he spoke about it. He nearly made the girl anaccomplice in the treason by telling her his plans. It is all very bad.""But surely, Holmes, character goes for something? Then, again, whyshould he leave the girl in the street and dart away to commit a felony?""Exactly! There are certainly objections. But it is a formidable casewhich they have to meet."Mr. Sidney Johnson, the senior clerk, met us at the office and receivedus with that respect which my companion's card always commanded. Hewas a thin, gruff, bespectacled man of middle age, his cheeks haggard,and his hands twitching from the nervous strain to which he had beensubjected."It is bad, Mr. Holmes, very bad! Have you heard of the death of thechief?""We have just come from his house.""The place is disorganized. The chief dead, Cadogan West dead, ourpapers stolen. And yet, when we closed our door on Monday evening, wewere as efficient an office as any in the government service. Good God,it's dreadful to think of! That West, of all men, should have done such athing!""You are sure of his guilt, then?"[923] "I can see no other way out of it. And yet I would have trustedhim as I trust myself.""At what hour was the office closed on Monday?""At five.""Did you close it?""I am always the last man out.""Where were the plans?""In that safe. I put them there myself.""Is there no watchman to the building?""There is, but he has other departments to look after as well. He is anold soldier and a most trustworthy man. He saw nothing that evening. Ofcourse the fog was very thick.""Suppose that Cadogan West wished to make his way into the buildingafter hours; he would need three keys, would he not, before he couldreach the papers?""Yes, he would. The key of the outer door, the key of the office, andthe key of the safe.""Only Sir James Walter and you had those keys?""I had no keys of the doors-only of the safe." "Was Sir James a man who was orderly in his habits?""Yes, I think he was. I know that so far as those three keys areconcerned he kept them on the same ring. I have often seen them there.""And that ring went with him to London?""He said so.""And your key never left your possession?""Never.""Then West, if he is the culprit, must have had a duplicate. And yetnone was found upon his body. One other point: if a clerk in this officedesired to sell the plans, would it not be simpler to copy the plans forhimself than to take the originals, as was actually done?""It would take considerable technical knowledge to copy the plans in aneffective way.""But I suppose either Sir James, or you, or West had that technicalknowledge?""No doubt we had, but I beg you won't try to drag me into the matter,Mr. Holmes. What is the use of our speculating in this way when theoriginal plans were actually found on West?""Well, it is certainly singular that he should run the risk of takingoriginals if he could safely have taken copies, which would have equallyserved his turn.""Singular, no doubt-and yet he did so.""Every inquiry in this case reveals something inexplicable. Now thereare three papers still missing. They are, as I understand, the vital ones.""Yes, that is so.""Do you mean to say that anyone holding these three papers, andwithout the seven others, could construct a Bruce-Partington submarine?""I reported to that effect to the Admiralty. But to-day I have been overthe drawings again, and I am not so sure of it. The double valves with theautomatic self-adjusting slots are drawn in one of the papers which havebeen returned. Until the foreigners had invented that for themselves they could not make the boat. Of course they might soon get over thedifficulty.""But the three missing drawings are the most important?"[924] "Undoubtedly.""I think, with your permission, I will now take a stroll round thepremises. I do not recall any other question which I desired to ask."He examined the lock of the safe, the door of the room, and finally theiron shutters of the window. It was only when we were on the lawnoutside that his interest was strongly excited. There was a laurel bushoutside the window, and several of the branches bore signs of having beentwisted or snapped. He examined them carefully with his lens, and thensome dim and vague marks upon the earth beneath. Finally he asked thechief clerk to close the iron shutters, and he pointed out to me that theyhardly met in the centre, and that it would be possible for anyone outsideto see what was going on within the room."The indications are ruined by the three days' delay. They may meansomething or nothing. Well, Watson, I do not think that Woolwich canhelp us further. It is a small crop which we have gathered. Let us see if wecan do better in London."Yet we added one more sheaf to our harvest before we left WoolwichStation. The clerk in the ticket office was able to say with confidence thathe saw Cadogan West-whom he knew well by sight-upon the Mondaynight, and that he went to London by the 8:15 to London Bridge. He wasalone and took a single third-class ticket. The clerk was struck at the timeby his excited and nervous manner. So shaky was he that he could hardlypick up his change, and the clerk had helped him with it. A reference tothe timetable showed that the 8:15 was the first train which it waspossible for West to take after he had left the lady about 7:30."Let us reconstruct, Watson," said Holmes after half an hour of silence."I am not aware that in all our joint researches we have ever had a casewhich was more difficult to get at. Every fresh advance which we makeonly reveals a fresh ridge beyond. And yet we have surely made someappreciable progress."The effect of our inquiries at Woolwich has in the main been againstyoung Cadogan West; but the indications at the window would lendthemselves to a more favourable hypothesis. Let us suppose, for example,that he had been approached by some foreign agent. It might have beendone under such pledges as would have prevented him from speaking ofit, and yet would have affected his thoughts in the direction indicated byhis remarks to his fiancee. Very good. We will now suppose that as hewent to the theatre with the young lady he suddenly, in the fog, caught aglimpse of this same agent going in the direction of the office. He was animpetuous man, quick in his decisions. Everything gave way to his duty.He followed the man, reached the window, saw the abstraction of thedocuments, and pursued the thief. In this way we get over the objectionthat no one would take originals when he could make copies. Thisoutsider had to take originals. So far it holds together.""What is the next step?""Then we come into difficulties. One would imagine that under such circumstances the first act of young Cadogan West would be to seize thevillain and raise the alarm. Why did he not do so? Could it have been anofficial superior who took the papers? That would explain West'sconduct. Or could the chief have given West the slip in the fog, and Weststarted at once to London to head him off from his own rooms, presumingthat he knew where the rooms were? The call must have been verypressing, since he left his girl standing in the fog and made no effort tocommunicate with her. Our scent runs cold here, and there is a vast gapbetween either hypothesis and the laying of West's body, with sevenpapers [925] in his pocket, on the roof of a Metropolitan train. My instinctnow is to work from the other end. If Mycroft has given us the list ofaddresses we may be able to pick our man and follow two tracks insteadof one."Surely enough, a note awaited us at Baker Street. A governmentmessenger had brought it post-haste. Holmes glanced at it and threw itover to me.There are numerous small fry, but few who would handle so bigan affair. The only men worth considering are Adolph Meyer, of13 Great George Street, Westminster; Louis La Rothiere, ofCampden Mansions, Notting Hill; and Hugo Oberstein, 13Caulfield Gardens, Kensington. The latter was known to be intown on Monday and is now reported as having left. Glad to hearyou have seen some light. The Cabinet awaits your final reportwith the utmost anxiety. Urgent representations have arrived fromthe very highest quarter. The whole force of the State is at yourback if you should need it.MYCROFT."I'm afraid," said Holmes, smiling, "that all the queen's horses and allthe queen's men cannot avail in this matter." He had spread out his bigmap of London and leaned eagerly over it. "Well, well," said he presentlywith an exclamation of satisfaction, "things are turning a little in ourdirection at last. Why, Watson, I do honestly believe that we are going topull it off, after all." He slapped me on the shoulder with a sudden burstof hilarity. "I am going out now. It is only a reconnaissance. I will donothing serious without my trusted comrade and biographer at my elbow.Do you stay here, and the odds are that you will see me again in an houror two. If time hangs heavy get foolscap and a pen, and begin yournarrative of how we saved the State."I felt some reflection of his elation in my own mind, for I knew wellthat he would not depart so far from his usual austerity of demeanourunless there was good cause for exultation. All the long Novemberevening I waited, filled with impatience for his return. At last, shortlyafter nine o'clock, there arrived a messenger with a note:Am dining at Goldini's Restaurant, Gloucester Road,Kensington. Please come at once and join me there. Bring withyou a jemmy, a dark lantern, a chisel, and a revolver.S. H.It was a nice equipment for a respectable citizen to carry through thedim, fog-draped streets. I stowed them all discreetly away in my overcoatand drove straight to the address given. There sat my friend at a littleround table near the door of the garish Italian restaurant."Have you had something to eat? Then join me in a coffee and curacao.Try one of the proprietor's cigars. They are less poisonous than onewould expect. Have you the tools?""They are here, in my overcoat.""Excellent. Let me give you a short sketch of what I have done, withsome indication of what we are about to do. Now it must be evident toyou, Watson, that this young man's body was placed on the roof of thetrain. That was clear from the instant that I determined the fact that it wasfrom the roof, and not from a carriage, that he had fallen.""Could it not have been dropped from a bridge?"[926] "I should say it was impossible. If you examine the roofs you willfind that they are slightly rounded, and there is no railing round them.Therefore, we can say for certain that young Cadogan West was placed onit.""How could he be placed there?""That was the question which we had to answer. There is only onepossible way. You are aware that the Underground runs clear of tunnels atsome points in the West End. I had a vague memory that as I havetravelled by it I have occasionally seen windows just above my head.Now, suppose that a train halted under such a window, would there beany difficulty in laying a body upon the roof?""It seems most improbable.""We must fall back upon the old axiom that when all othercontingencies fail, whatever remains, however improbable, must be thetruth. Here all other contingencies have failed. When I found that theleading international agent, who had just left London, lived in a row ofhouses which abutted upon the Underground, I was so pleased that youwere a little astonished at my sudden frivolity.""Oh, that was it, was it?""Yes, that was it. Mr. Hugo Oberstein, of 13 Caulfield Gardens, hadbecome my objective. I began my operations at Gloucester Road Station,where a very helpful official walked with me along the track and allowedme to satisfy myself not only that the back-stair windows of CaulfieldGardens open on the line but the even more essential fact that, owing tothe intersection of one of the larger railways, the Underground trains arefrequently held motionless for some minutes at that very spot.""Splendid, Holmes! You have got it!""So far-so far, Watson. We advance, but the goal is afar. Well, havingseen the back of Caulfield Gardens, I visited the front and satisfied myselfthat the bird was indeed flown. It is a considerable house, unfurnished, sofar as I could judge, in the upper rooms. Oberstein lived there with asingle valet, who was probably a confederate entirely in his confidence.We must bear in mind that Oberstein has gone to the Continent to dispose of his booty, but not with any idea of flight; for he had no reason to fear awarrant, and the idea of an amateur domiciliary visit would certainlynever occur to him. Yet that is precisely what we are about to make.""Could we not get a warrant and legalize it?""Hardly on the evidence.""What can we hope to do?""We cannot tell what correspondence may be there.""I don't like it, Holmes.""My dear fellow, you shall keep watch in the street. I'll do the criminalpart. It's not a time to stick at trifles. Think of Mycroft's note, of theAdmiralty, the Cabinet, the exalted person who waits for news. We arebound to go."My answer was to rise from the table."You are right, Holmes. We are bound to go."He sprang up and shook me by the hand."I knew you would not shrink at the last," said he, and for a moment Isaw something in his eyes which was nearer to tenderness than I had everseen. The next instant he was his masterful, practical self once more."It is nearly half a mile, but there is no hurry. Let us walk," said he."Don't [927] drop the instruments, I beg. Your arrest as a suspiciouscharacter would be a most unfortunate complication."Caulfield Gardens was one of those lines of flat-faced pillared, andporticoed houses which are so prominent a product of the middleVictorian epoch in the West End of London. Next door there appeared tobe a children's party, for the merry buzz of young voices and the clatter ofa piano resounded through the night. The fog still hung about andscreened us with its friendly shade. Holmes had lit his lantern and flashedit upon the massive door."This is a serious proposition," said he. "It is certainly bolted as well aslocked. We would do better in the area. There is an excellent archwaydown yonder in case a too zealous policeman should intrude. Give me ahand, Watson, and I'll do the same for you."A minute later we were both in the area. Hardly had we reached thedark shadows before the step of the policeman was heard in the fogabove. As its soft rhythm died away, Holmes set to work upon the lowerdoor. I saw him stoop and strain until with a sharp crash it flew open. Wesprang through into the dark passage, closing the area door behind us.Holmes led the way up the curving, uncarpeted stair. His little fan ofyellow light shone upon a low window."Here we are, Watson-this must be the one." He threw it open, and ashe did so there was a low, harsh murmur, growing steadily into a loudroar as a train dashed past us in the darkness. Holmes swept his lightalong the window-sill. It was thickly coated with soot from the passingengines, but the black surface was blurred and rubbed in places."You can see where they rested the body. Halloa, Watson! what is this?There can be no doubt that it is a blood mark." He was pointing to faintdiscolourations along the woodwork of the window. "Here it is on thestone of the stair also. The demonstration is complete. Let us stay hereuntil a train stops."We had not long to wait. The very next train roared from the tunnel asbefore, but slowed in the open, and then, with a creaking of brakes, pulledup immediately beneath us. It was not four feet from the window-ledge tothe roof of the carriages. Holmes softly closed the window."So far we are justified," said he. "What do you think of it, Watson?""A masterpiece. You have never risen to a greater height.""I cannot agree with you there. From the moment that I conceived theidea of the body being upon the roof, which surely was not a veryabstruse one, all the rest was inevitable. If it were not for the graveinterests involved the affair up to this point would be insignificant. Ourdifficulties are still before us. But perhaps we may find something herewhich may help us."We had ascended the kitchen stair and entered the suite of rooms uponthe first floor. One was a dining-room, severely furnished and containingnothing of interest. A second was a bedroom, which also drew blank. Theremaining room appeared more promising, and my companion settleddown to a systematic examination. It was littered with books and papers,and was evidently used as a study. Swiftly and methodically Holmesturned over the contents of drawer after drawer and cupboard aftercupboard, but no gleam of success came to brighten his austere face. Atthe end of an hour he was no further than when he started."The cunning dog has covered his tracks," said he. "He has left nothingto incriminate him. His dangerous correspondence has been destroyed orremoved. This is our last chance." [928] It was a small tin cash-box which stood upon the writing-desk.Holmes pried it open with his chisel. Several rolls of paper were within,covered with figures and calculations, without any note to show to whatthey referred. The recurring words, "water pressure" and "pressure to thesquare inch" suggested some possible relation to a submarine. Holmestossed them all impatiently aside. There only remained an envelope withsome small newspaper slips inside it. He shook them out on the table, andat once I saw by his eager face that his hopes had been raised."What's this, Watson? Eh? What's this? Record of a series of messagesin the advertisements of a paper. Daily Telegraph agony column by theprint and paper. Right-hand top corner of a page. No dates-but messagesarrange themselves. This must be the first:"Hoped to hear sooner. Terms agreed to. Write fully to addressgiven on card."PIERROT."Next comes:"Too complex for description. Must have full report. Stuffawaits you when goods delivered."PIERROT."Then comes:"Matter presses. Must withdraw offer unless contract completed.Make appointment by letter. Will confirm by advertisement."PIERROT."Finally:"Monday night after nine. Two taps. Only ourselves. Do not beso suspicious. Payment in hard cash when goods delivered."PIERROT."A fairly complete record, Watson! If we could only get at the man atthe other end!" He sat lost in thought, tapping his fingers on the table.Finally he sprang to his feet."Well, perhaps it won't be so difficult, after all. There is nothing moreto be done here, Watson. I think we might drive round to the offices of theDaily Telegraph, and so bring a good day's work to a conclusion."Mycroft Holmes and Lestrade had come round by appointment afterbreakfast next day and Sherlock Holmes had recounted to them ourproceedings of the day before. The professional shook his head over ourconfessed burglary."We can't do these things in the force, Mr. Holmes," said he. "Nowonder you get results that are beyond us. But some of these days you'll go too far, and you'll find yourself and your friend in trouble.""For England, home and beauty-eh, Watson? Martyrs on the altar ofour country. But what do you think of it, Mycroft?""Excellent, Sherlock! Admirable! But what use will you make of it?"Holmes picked up the Daily Telegraph which lay upon the table."Have you seen Pierrot's advertisement to-day?""What? Another one?""Yes, here it is:[929] "To-night. Same hour. Same place. Two taps. Most vitallyimportant. Your own safety at stake."PIERROT."By George!" cried Lestrade. "If he answers that we've got him!""That was my idea when I put it in. I think if you could both make itconvenient to come with us about eight o'clock to Caulfield Gardens wemight possibly get a little nearer to a solution."One of the most remarkable characteristics of Sherlock Holmes was hispower of throwing his brain out of action and switching all his thoughtson to lighter things whenever he had convinced himself that he could nolonger work to advantage. I remember that during the whole of thatmemorable day he lost himself in a monograph which he had undertakenupon the Polyphonic Motets of Lassus. For my own part I had none ofthis power of detachment, and the day, in consequence, appeared to beinterminable. The great national importance of the issue, the suspense inhigh quarters, the direct nature of the experiment which we weretrying-all combined to work upon my nerve. It was a relief to me when atlast, after a light dinner, we set out upon our expedition. Lestrade andMycroft met us by appointment at the outside of Gloucester Road Station.The area door of Oberstein's house had been left open the night before,and it was necessary for me, as Mycroft Holmes absolutely andindignantly declined to climb the railings, to pass in and open the halldoor. By nine o'clock we were all seated in the study, waiting patientlyfor our man.An hour passed and yet another. When eleven struck, the measured beatof the great church clock seemed to sound the dirge of our hopes.Lestrade and Mycroft were fidgeting in their seats and looking twice aminute at their watches. Holmes sat silent and composed, his eyelids halfshut, but every sense on the alert. He raised his head with a sudden jerk."He is coming," said he.There had been a furtive step past the door. Now it returned. We hearda shuffling sound outside, and then two sharp taps with the knocker.Holmes rose, motioning to us to remain seated. The gas in the hall was amere point of light. He opened the outer door, and then as a dark figureslipped past him he closed and fastened it. "This way!" we heard him say,and a moment later our man stood before us. Holmes had followed himclosely, and as the man turned with a cry of surprise and alarm he caughthim by the collar and threw him back into the room. Before our prisoner had recovered his balance the door was shut and Holmes standing withhis back against it. The man glared round him, staggered, and fellsenseless upon the floor. With the shock, his broad-brimmed hat flewfrom his head, his cravat slipped down from his lips, and there were thelong light beard and the soft, handsome delicate features of ColonelValentine Walter.Holmes gave a whistle of surprise."You can write me down an ass this time, Watson," said he. "This wasnot the bird that I was looking for.""Who is he?" asked Mycroft eagerly."The younger brother of the late Sir James Walter, the head of theSubmarine Department. Yes, yes; I see the fall of the cards. He is comingto. I think that you had best leave his examination to me."We had carried the prostrate body to the sofa. Now our prisoner sat up,looked [930] round him with a horror-stricken face, and passed his handover his forehead, like one who cannot believe his own senses."What is this?" he asked. "I came here to visit Mr. Oberstein.""Everything is known, Colonel Walter," said Holmes. "How an Englishgentleman could behave in such a manner is beyond my comprehension.But your whole correspondence and relations with Oberstein are withinour knowledge. So also are the circumstances connected with the death ofyoung Cadogan West. Let me advise you to gain at least the small creditfor repentance and confession, since there are still some details which wecan only learn from your lips."The man groaned and sank his face in his hands. We waited, but he wassilent. "I can assure you," said Holmes, "that every essential is already known.We know that you were pressed for money; that you took an impress ofthe keys which your brother held; and that you entered into acorrespondence with Oberstein, who answered your letters through theadvertisement columns of the Daily Telegraph. We are aware that youwent down to the office in the fog on Monday night, but that you wereseen and followed by young Cadogan West, who had probably someprevious reason to suspect you. He saw your theft, but could not give thealarm, as it was just possible that you were taking the papers to yourbrother in London. Leaving all his private concerns, like the good citizenthat he was, he followed you closely in the fog and kept at your heelsuntil you reached this very house. There he intervened, and then it was,Colonel Walter, that to treason you added the more terrible crime ofmurder.""I did not! I did not! Before God I swear that I did not!" cried ourwretched prisoner."Tell us, then, how Cadogan West met his end before you laid himupon the roof of a railway carriage.""I will. I swear to you that I will. I did the rest. I confess it. It was justas you say. A Stock Exchange debt had to be paid. I needed the moneybadly. Oberstein offered me five thousand. It was to save myself fromruin. But as to murder, I am as innocent as you.""What happened, then?""He had his suspicions before, and he followed me as you describe. Inever knew it until I was at the very door. It was thick fog, and one couldnot see three yards. I had given two taps and Oberstein had come to thedoor. The young man rushed up and demanded to know what we wereabout to do with the papers. Oberstein had a short life-preserver. Healways carried it with him. As West forced his way after us into the houseOberstein struck him on the head. The blow was a fatal one. He was deadwithin five minutes. There he lay in the hall, and we were at our wit's endwhat to do. Then Oberstein had this idea about the trains which haltedunder his back window. But first he examined the papers which I hadbrought. He said that three of them were essential, and that he must keepthem. 'You cannot keep them,' said I. 'There will be a dreadful row atWoolwich if they are not returned.' 'I must keep them,' said he, 'for theyare so technical that it is impossible in the time to make copies.' 'Thenthey must all go back together to-night,' said I. He thought for a little, andthen he cried out that he had it. 'Three I will keep,' said he. 'The otherswe will stuff into the pocket of this young man. When he is found thewhole business will assuredly be put to his account. I could see no otherway out of it, so we did as he suggested. We waited half an hour at thewindow before a train stopped. It was so thick that nothing could be seen,[931] and we had no difficulty in lowering West's body on to the train.That was the end of the matter so far as I was concerned.""And your brother?""He said nothing, but he had caught me once with his keys, and I thinkthat he suspected. I read in his eyes that he suspected. As you know, henever held up his head again."There was silence in the room. It was broken by Mycroft Holmes."Can you not make reparation? It would ease your conscience, andpossibly your punishment.""What reparation can I make?""Where is Oberstein with the papers?""I do not know.""Did he give you no address?""He said that letters to the Hôtel du Louvre, Paris, would eventuallyreach him.""Then reparation is still within your power," said Sherlock Holmes."I will do anything I can. I owe this fellow no particular good-will. Hehas been my ruin and my downfall.""Here are paper and pen. Sit at this desk and write to my dictation.Direct the envelope to the address given. That is right. Now the letter:"DEAR SIR:"With regard to our transaction, you will no doubt haveobserved by now that one essential detail is missing. I have atracing which will make it complete. This has involved me in extratrouble, however, and I must ask you for a further advance of fivehundred pounds. I will not trust it to the post, nor will I take anything but gold or notes. I would come to you abroad, but itwould excite remark if I left the country at present. Therefore Ishall expect to meet you in the smoking-room of the CharingCross Hotel at noon on Saturday. Remember that only Englishnotes, or gold, will be taken.That will do very well. I shall be very much surprised if it does not fetchour man."And it did! It is a matter of history-that secret history of a nation whichis often so much more intimate and interesting than its public chronicles-that Oberstein, eager to complete the coup of his lifetime, came to thelure and was safely engulfed for fifteen years in a British prison. In histrunk were found the invaluable Bruce-Partington plans, which he had putup for auction in all the naval centres of Europe.Colonel Walter died in prison towards the end of the second year of hissentence. As to Holmes, he returned refreshed to his monograph upon thePolyphonic Motets of Lassus, which has since been printed for privatecirculation, and is said by experts to be the last word upon the subject.Some weeks afterwards I learned incidentally that my friend spent a dayat Windsor, whence he returned with a remarkably fine emerald tie-pin.When I asked him if he had bought it, he answered that it was a presentfrom a certain gracious lady in whose interests he had once been fortunateenough to carry out a small commission. He said no more; but I fancy thatI could guess at that lady's august name, and I have little doubt that theemerald pin will forever recall to my friend's memory the adventure ofthe Bruce-Partington plans