plans
were somewhat vague as to what I should do if we were interrupted. For
half an hour Holmes worked with concentrated energy, laying down one
tool, picking up another, handling each with the strength and delicacy
of the trained mechanic. Finally I heard a click, the broad green door
swung open, and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paper packets,
each tied, sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out, but it was hard
to read by the flickering fire, and he drew out his little dark lantern,
for it was too dangerous, with Milverton in the next room, to switch on
the electric light. Suddenly I saw him halt, listen intently, and then
in an instant he had swung the door of the safe to, picked up his
coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, and darted behind the window
curtain, motioning me to do the same.

It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what had alarmed
his quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within the house. A door
slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dull murmur broke itself into
the measured thud of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. They were in
the passage outside the room. They paused at the door. The door opened.
There was a sharp snick as the electric light was turned on. The door
closed once more, and the pungent reek of a strong cigar was borne
to our nostrils. Then the footsteps continued backwards and forwards,
backwards and forwards, within a few yards of us. Finally, there was a
creak from a chair, and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clicked in a
lock and I heard the rustle of papers.

So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted the division
of the curtains in front of me and peeped through. From the pressure
of Holmes's shoulder against mine I knew that he was sharing my
observations. Right in front of us, and almost within our reach, was the
broad, rounded back of Milverton. It was evident that we had entirely
miscalculated his movements, that he had never been to his bedroom,
but that he had been sitting up in some smoking or billiard room in the
farther wing of the house, the windows of which we had not seen. His
broad, grizzled head, with its shining patch of baldness, was in the
immediate foreground of our vision. He was leaning far back in the red
leather chair, his legs outstretched, a long black cigar projecting
at an angle from his mouth. He wore a semi-military smoking jacket,
claret-coloured, with a black velvet collar. In his hand he