neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies

I was compelled to listen to.”


“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked.


“Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is

the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the Serpentine-mews,

to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five every day,

and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except

when she sings. Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark,

handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is

a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a

confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and

knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to

walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of

campaign.


“This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He

was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and

what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his

mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his

keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question

depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my

attention to the gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate

point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with

these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to

understand the situation.”


“I am following you closely,” I answered.


“I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up

to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably handsome man,

dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of whom I had heard. He