The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

hold my tongue. "Not everyone is so fortunate as to have Sherlock Holmes's complete mastery of their brains over their hearts, and I think it is very bad of you not to show a little compassion."
    For the first time since we had entered the room after our ramble, Holmes turned to look at me fully.
    "Watson?" he asked eventually. He seemed to be searching for words. "I do not wish to pry, but is everything quite alright?"
    I was already embarrassed at my outburst, and hastened to deflect those deceptively calm eyes that could read me as easily as a page of printed text.
    "I am fine," I murmured. "Please excuse what I said. I am rather disgusted by our meeting with Milverton, he is a most odious character. Furthermore, while outside he made a request that I could persuade you to his way of thinking. You may imagine how repellent I found the suggestion."
    He scrutinised me closely, and I quickly looked at the fireplace, for I could not bring myself to meet his gaze at that moment.
    "Very well," he said finally. Rising, he disappeared into his bedroom and some minutes later a rakish young workman with a goatee beard swaggered out. He stopped to light his clay pipe at the lamp.
    "I'll be back some time, Watson," he said, and vanished into the night.
    When he was safely out of the door, I allowed my head to fall into my hands. For long minutes I sat there until, unable to let my mind dwell upon it any longer, I went up to my bedchamber to seek solace in unconsciousness.
    * * * *
    I can honestly say that I do not know how I survived that week. Looking back at my patient records, I see that I worked a great deal, doubtless attempting to keep my mind so occupied that I would have no time to dwell on my situation. Very soon I would either have to find three thousand pounds that I did not possess, confess my situation to Holmes and beg his assistance, or watch our entire lives come crashing down around our ears.
    Fortunately, Holmes was much preoccupied with Lady Blackwell's case – upon his return in the evening he would answer only "Hampstead" in response to my desultory questions and was not inclined to elaborate. For my part, it was possibly the only time in my life that I have been glad to see less of Holmes. If this was to be our last week together then I ought to have been cherishing every moment, but every sight of the tall, brilliant, handsome figure striding about our rooms or leaning intently over his chemistry table only served to remind me of all that I would soon no longer have.
    As may be imagined, my mood was not enhanced by another meeting with Milverton a few days later. He enquired cordially whether I thought I would be able to find the amount required, and I could only repeat my request for more time. Upon my return to Baker Street I sat at my desk and attempted to formulate a strategy, but rose after an hour with no more insight than I had had previously. The simple fact was that I had no friends in London from whom I could ask to borrow such a sum, and on the rare occasions that I had seen Holmes that week I had not had the courage to broach the subject with him.
    At the end of a week upon which I do not care to dwell overmuch, Holmes entered our rooms on a wild, tempestuous evening where the snow whirled giddily outside the window and the wind howled in the chimney. He removed his disguise and came to sit opposite me before the fire, laughing to himself at some private joke.
    "You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?"
    "No, indeed!"
    "You'll be interested to hear that I am engaged."
    "My dear fellow!" I exclaimed, thankful that I was not expected to hide my outright shock, and inwardly feeling that the impossible had happened and my week had gone from bad to worse.
    Holmes's eyes gleamed at me as he said, "To Milverton's housemaid."
    "Good heavens, Holmes!"
    "I wanted information, Watson."
    "Surely you have gone too far?"
    "It was a most necessary step. I am a plumber with a rising business, Escott by name. I have walked out with her each evening, and I have talked with her. Good heavens, those talks! However, I have got all I wanted. I know Milverton's house as I know the palm of my hand."
    "But the girl, Holmes?"
    He shrugged his shoulders.
    "You can't help it, my dear Watson. You must play your cards as best you can when such a stake is on the table. What a splendid night it is!"
    "You like this weather?"
    "It suits my purpose. Watson, I mean to burgle Milverton's house tonight."
    At this point, I