“That can be done in a very few words, Mr. Holmes. The letter - for it was a letter from a foreign potentate - was received six days ago. It was of such importance that I have never left it in my safe, but I have taken it across each evening to my house in Whitehall Terrace, and kept it in my bedroom in a locked despatch-box. It was there last night. Of that I am certain. I actually opened the box while I was dressing for dinner and saw the document inside. This morning it was gone. The despatch-box had stood beside the glass upon my dressing-table all night. I am a light sleeper, and so is my wife. We are both prepared to swear that no one could have entered the room during the night. And yet I repeat that the paper is gone.”
“What time did you dine?”
“Half-past seven.”
“How long was it before you went to bed?”
“My wife had gone to the theatre. I waited up for her. It was half-past eleven before we went to our room.”
“Then for four hours the despatch-box had lain unguarded?”
“No one is ever permitted to enter that room save the house-maid in the morning, and my valet, or my wife’s maid, during the rest of the day. They are both trusty servants who have been with us for some time. Besides, neither of them could possibly have known that there was anything more valuable than the ordinary departmental papers in my despatch-box.”
“Who did know of the existence of that letter?”
“No one in the house.”
“Surely your wife knew?”
“No, sir. I had said nothing to my wife until I missed the paper this morning.”
The Premier nodded approvingly.
“I have long known, sir, how high is your sense of public duty,” said he. “I am convinced that in the case of a secret of this importance it would rise superior to the most intimate domestic ties.”
The European Secretary bowed.
“You do me no more than justice, sir. Until this morning I have never breathed one word to my wife upon this matter.”
“Could she have guessed?”
“No, Mr. Holmes, she could not have guessed - nor could anyone have guessed.”
“Have you lost any documents before?”
“No, sir.”
“Who is there in England who did know of the existence of this letter?”
“Each member of the Cabinet was informed of it yesterday, but the pledge of secrecy which attends every Cabinet meeting was increased by the solemn warning which was given by the Prime Minister. Good heavens, to think that within a few hours I should myself have lost it!” His handsome face was distorted with a spasm of despair, and his hands tore at his hair. For a moment we caught a glimpse of the natural man, impulsive, ardent, keenly sensitive. The next the aristocratic mask was replaced, and the gentle voice had returned. “Besides the members of the Cabinet there are two, or possibly three, departmental officials who know of the letter. No one else in England, Mr. Holmes, I assure you.”
“But abroad?”
“I believe that no one abroad has seen it save the man who wrote it. I am well convinced that his Ministers - that the usual official channels have not been employed.”
Holmes considered for some little time.
“Now, sir, I must ask you more particularly what this document is, and why its disappearance should have such momentous consequences?”
The two statesmen exchanged a quick glance and the Premier’s shaggy eyebrows gathered in a frown.
“Mr. Holmes, the envelope is a long, thin one of pale blue colour. There is a seal of red wax stamped with a crouching lion. It is addressed in large, bold handwriting to- -”
“I fear, sir,” said Holmes, “that, interesting and indeed essential as these details are, my inquiries must go more to the root of things. What was the letter?”
