2 The Photograph

Chapter 2 The Photograph "I understand," said Sherlock Holmes. "You've come in secret all the way from Bohemia to consult with me. So again I ask: how can I help?" "Five years ago, I became friends with the opera singer Irene Adler. I assume you've heard of her?" "The prima donna of the Warsaw Imperial Opera? I understand she's now retired and living in London. I take it your Majesty fell in love with her and wrote her some adoring letters, which you would now like to get back, am I right?" "Precisely, but how—?"

"Then I fail to understand the problem. If she produces these letters in order to blackmail you, how can she prove they're genuine?" "It was my writing." "Forged." "On my private notepaper." "Stolen." "Using my seal." "Imitated." "There's also a photograph of both of us." "Oh dear! That was careless. You must get that back."

"We've tried. She refused to sell it to us, so we attempted to steal it. My agents have twice ransacked her house, and twice waylaid her on her travels and searched her clothing and luggage, always without success. The photograph remains in her possession." "What does she plan to do with it?" asked Holmes. "She wishes to ruin me," answered the king. "I am shortly to marry the daughter of the king of Scandinavia. They are a family of very strict morals and will immediately cancel the wedding if this photograph comes to light. Miss Adler doesn't want me to marry anyone but her and is threatening to send them the photograph." "How do you know she hasn't already sent it?" "Because she plans to send it on the day the engagement is publicly announced, which is next Monday." "Then we have three days. Will your Majesty be staying in London for the time being?" "Yes. You'll find me at the Langham Hotel under the name Count von Kramm."

"Excellent. I shall contact you to let you know our progress. Now, regarding my fee—" "Just tell me how much you want. I would give a province of my kingdom to have that photograph. For now, here's something to cover your expenses." The king took a heavy leather bag from under his cloak and placed it on the table. "In there are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes. Is that enough?" "That should do fine," said Holmes, looking slightly dazed by the sight of so much money. "Do you have Miss Adler's address?" "Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood."

Holmes made a note of it. "One other question, your Majesty: Is the photograph large or small?" "It's large with a cardboard backing." "Thank you." After we saw the king out and listened to the wheels of his carriage roll down the street, Holmes turned to me. "Could you be here tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock? I should like to talk this little matter over with you." At three o'clock precisely, I was back at Baker Street, but Mrs. Hudson informed me that Holmes had not yet returned. "He left the house shortly after eight this morning," she said, "and didn't say how long he'd be gone." So I sat down by the fire and waited.

It was nearly four when the door opened and an old stable hand strode in, wearing side- whiskers and shabby clothes. I know my friend is a master of disguise, but I had to look three times before I could be certain it was him. He nodded at me, then disappeared into his bedroom, emerging five minutes later in his usual tweed suit.