LITMIR.BIZ

      Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large, intellectual head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad, golden-rimmed glasses. There was something of Mr. Pickwick's benevolence in his appearance, marred only by the insincerity of the fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those restless and penetrating eyes. His voice was as smooth and suave as his countenance, as he advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring his regret for having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton's smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat.

      "This gentleman?" said he, with a wave in my direction. "Is it discreet? Is it right?"

      "Dr. Watson is my friend and partner."

      "Very good, Mr. Holmes. It is only in your client's interests that I protested. The matter is so very delicate—"

      "Dr. Watson has already heard of it."

      "Then we can proceed to business. You say that you are acting for Lady Eva. Has she empowered you to accept my terms?"

      "What are your terms?"

      "Seven thousand pounds."

      "And the alternative?"

      "My dear sir, it is painful for me to discuss it; but if the money is not paid on the 14th there certainly will be no marriage on the 18th." His insufferable smile was more complacent than ever.

      Holmes thought for a little.

      "You appear to me," he said, at last, "to be taking matters too much for granted. I am, of course, familiar with the contents of these letters. My client will certainly do what I may advise. I shall counsel her to tell her future husband the whole story and to trust to his generosity."

      Milverton chuckled.

      "You evidently do not know the Earl," said he.

      From the baffled look upon Holmes's face I could see clearly that he did.

      "What harm is there in the letters?" he asked.

      "They are sprightly—very sprightly," Milverton answered. "The lady was a charming correspondent. But I can assure you that the Earl of Dovercourt would fail to appreciate them. However, since you think otherwise, we will let it rest at that. It is purely a matter of business. If you think that it is in the best interests of your client that these letters should be placed in the hands of the Earl, then you would indeed be foolish to pay so large a sum of money to regain them." He rose and seized his astrakhan coat.

      Holmes was grey with anger and mortification.

      "Wait a little," he said. "You go too fast. We would certainly make every effort to avoid scandal in so delicate a matter."

      Milverton relapsed into his chair.

      "I was sure that you would see it in that light," he purred.

      "At the same time," Holmes continued, "Lady Eva is not a wealthy woman. I assure you that £2,000 would be a drain upon her resources, and that the sum you name is utterly beyond her power. I beg, therefore, that you will moderate your demands, and that you will return the letters at the price I indicate, which is, I assure you, the highest that you can get."

      Milverton's smile broadened and his eyes twinkled humorously.

      "I am aware that what you say is true about the lady's resources," said he. "At the same time, you must admit that the occasion of a lady's marriage is a very suitable time for her friends and relatives to make some little effort upon her behalf. They may hesitate as to an acceptable wedding present. Let me assure them that this little bundle of letters would give more joy than all the candelabra and butter-dishes in London."

      "It is impossible," said Holmes.

      "Dear me, dear me, how unfortunate!" cried Milverton, taking out a bulky pocket-book. "I cannot help thinking that ladies are ill-advised in not making an effort. Look at this!" He held up a little note with a coat-of-arms upon the envelope. "That belongs to—well, perhaps it is hardly fair to tell the name until to-morrow morning. But at that time it will be in the hands of the lady's husband. And all because she will not find a beggarly sum which she could get by turning her diamonds into paste. It IS such a pity. Now, you remember the sudden end of the engagement between the Honourable Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two days before the wedding there was a paragraph in the Morning Post to say that it was all off. And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum of £1,200 would have settled the whole question. Is it not pitiful? And here I find you, a man of sense, boggling about terms when your client's future and honour are at stake. You surprise me, Mr. Holmes."

      "What I say is true," Holmes answered. "The money cannot be found. Surely it is better for you to take the substantial sum which I offer than to ruin this woman's career, which can profit you in no way?"

      "There you make a mistake, Mr. Holmes. An exposure would profit me indirectly to a considerable extent. I have eight or ten similar cases maturing. If it was circulated among them that I had made a severe example of the Lady Eva I should find all of them much more open to reason. You see my point?"

      Holmes sprang from his chair.

      "Get behind him, Watson! Don't let him out! Now, sir, let us see the contents of that note-book."

      Milverton had glided as quick as a rat to the side of the room, and stood with his back against the wall.