stantial 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 notebook."

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

"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes," he said, turning the front of his coat and
exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from the inside
pocket. "I have been expecting you to do something original. This has
been done so often, and what good has ever come from it? I assure you
that I am armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared to use my
weapons, knowing that the law will support me. Besides, your supposition
that I would bring the letters here in a notebook is entirely mistaken.
I would do nothing so foolish. And now, gentlemen, I have one or two
little interviews this evening, and it is a long drive to Hampstead."
He stepped forward, took up his coat, laid his hand on his revolver, and
turned to the door. I picked up a chair, but Holmes shook his head, and
I laid it down again. With bow, a smile, and a twinkle, Milverton
was out of the room, and a few moments after we heard the slam of the
carriage door and the rattle of the wheels as he drove away.

Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his trouser
pockets, his chin sunk upon his breast, his eyes fixed upon the glowing
embers. For half an hour he was silent and still. Then, with the gesture
of a man who has taken his decision, he sprang to his feet and passed
into his bedroom. A little later a rakish young workman, with a goatee
beard and a swagger, lit his clay pipe at the lamp before descending
into the street. "I'll be back some time, Watson," said he, and vanished
into the night. I understood that he had opened his campaign against
Charles Augustus Milverton, but I little dreamed the strange shape which
that campaign was destined to take.

For some days Holmes came and went at all hours in this attire, but
beyond a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead, and that it was
not wasted, I knew nothing of