does not
carry it about with her."

"Where, then?"

"Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am
inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like to
do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else? She
could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what indirect or
political influence might be brought to bear upon a business man. Besides,
remember that she had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be
where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house."

"But it has twice been burglarized."

"Pshaw! They did not know how to look."

"But how will you look?"

"I will not look."

"What then?"

"I will get her to show me."

"But she will refuse."

"She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her
carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter."

As he spoke, the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the
curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to the
door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up one of the loafing men at the corner
dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper, but was
elbowed away by another loafer who had rushed up with the same intention.
A fierce quarrel broke out which was increased by the two guardsmen, who
took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors grinder, who was
equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the
lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the center of a little knot
of struggling men who struck savagely at each other with their fists and
sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as he
reached her, he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood
running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their
heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of
better-dressed people who had watched the scuffle without taking part in
it crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene
Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood
at the top, with her superb figure outlined against the lights of the
hall, looking back into the street.

"Is the poor gentleman much hurt?" she asked.

"He is dead," cried several voices.

"No, no, there's life in him," shouted another. "But he'll be gone before
you can get him to the hospital."

"He's a brave fellow," said a woman.