It was, therefore, an empty room into which Billy, a minute later,ushered Count Sylvius. The famous game-shot, sportsman, andman-about-town was a big, swarthy fellow, with a formidable darkmoustache shading a cruel, thin-lipped mouth, and surmountedby a long, curved nose like the beak of an eagle. He was welldressed, but his brilliant necktie, shining pin, and glittering ringswere flamboyant in their effect. As the door closed behind himhe looked round him with fierce, startled eyes, like one whosuspects a trap at every turn. Then he gave a violent start as hesaw the impassive head and the collar of the dressing-gown whichprojected above the armchair in the window. At first his expressionwas one of pure amazement. Then the light of a horrible hopegleamed in his dark, murderous eyes. He took one more glanceround to see that there were no witnesses, and then, on tiptoe,his thick stick half raised, he approached the silent figure. He wascrouching for his final spring and blow when a cool, sardonic voicegreeted him from the open bedroom door:
“Don’t break it, Count! Don’t break it!”
The assassin staggered back, amazement in his convulsed face.
For an instant he half raised his loaded cane once more, as if hewould turn his violence from the effigy to the original; but therewas something in that steady gray eye and mocking smile whichcaused his hand to sink to his side.
“It’s a pretty little thing,” said Holmes, advancing towards theimage. “Tavernier, the French modeller, made it. He is as good atwaxworks as your friend Straubenzee is at air-guns.”
“Air-guns, sir! What do you mean?”
“Put your hat and stick on the side-table. Thank you! Pray take aseat. Would you care to put your revolver out also? Oh, very good,if you prefer to sit upon it. Your visit is really most opportune, forI wanted badly to have a few minutes’ chat with you. ”
The Count scowled, with heavy, threatening eyebrows.
“I, too, wished to have some words with you, Holmes. That iswhy I am here. I won’t deny that I intended to assault you just now.”
Holmes swung his leg on the edge of the table.
“I rather gathered that you had some idea of the sort in yourhead,” said he. “But why these personal attentions?”
“Because you have gone out of your way to annoy me. Becauseyou have put your creatures upon my track.”
“My creatures! I assure you no!”
“Nonsense! I have had them followed. Two can play at thatgame, Holmes.”
“It is a small point, Count Sylvius, but perhaps you would kindlygive me my prefix when you address me. You can understand that,with my routine of work, I should find myself on familiar termswith half the rogues’ gallery, and you will agree that exceptions areinvidious.”
“Well, Mr. Holmes, then.”
“Excellent! But I assure you you are mistaken about my allegedagents.”
Count Sylvius laughed contemptuously.
“Other people can observe as well as you. Yesterday there wasan old sporting man. To-day it was an elderly woman. They heldme in view all day.”
“Really, sir, you compliment me. Old Baron Dowson said thenight before he was hanged that in my case what the law had gainedthe stage had lost. And now you give my little impersonations yourkindly praise?”
“It was you—you yourself?”
Holmes shrugged his shoulders. “You can see in the corner theparasol which you so politely handed to me in the Minories beforeyou began to suspect.”
“If I had known, you might never——”
“Have seen this humble home again. I was well aware of it. Weall have neglected opportunities to deplore. As it happens, you didnot know, so here we are!”
The Count’s knotted brows gathered more heavily over hismenacing eyes. “What you say only makes the matter worse. Itwas not your agents but your play-acting, busybody self! You admitthat you have dogged me. Why?”
“Come now, Count. You used to shoot lions in Algeria.”
“Well?”
“But why?”
“Why? The sport—the excitement—the danger!”
“And, no doubt, to free the country from a pest?”
“Exactly!”
“My reasons in a nutshell!”
The Count sprang to his feet, and his hand involuntarily movedback to his hip-pocket.
“Sit down, sir, sit down! There was another, more practical,reason. I want that yellow diamond!”
Count Sylvius lay back in his chair with an evil smile.
“Upon my word!” said he.
“You knew that I was after you for that. The real reason why youare here to-night is to find out how much I know about the matterand how far my removal is absolutely essential. Well, I should saythat, from your point of view, it is absolutely essential, for I knowall about it, save only one thing, which you are about to tell me.”
“Oh, indeed! And pray, what is this missing fact?”
“Where the Crown diamond now is.”
The Count looked sharply at his companion. “Oh, you want toknow that, do you? How the devil should I be able to tell you whereit is?”
“You can, and you will.”
“Indeed!”
“You can’t bluff me, Count Sylvius.” Holmes’s eyes, as he gazed athim, contracted and lightened until they were like two menacingpoints of steel. “You are absolute plate-glass. I see to the very backof your mind.”
“Then, of course, you see where the diamond is!”
Holmes clapped his hands with amusement, and then pointed aderisive finger. “Then you do know. You have admitted it!”
“I admit nothing.”
“Now, Count, if you will be reasonable we can do business. Ifnot, you will get hurt.”
Count Sylvius threw up his eyes to the ceiling. “And you talkabout bluff!” said he.
Holmes looked at him thoughtfully like a master chess-playerwho meditates his crowning move. Then he threw open the tabledrawer and drew out a squat notebook.
“Do you know what I keep in this book?”
“No, sir, I do not!”
“You!”
“Me!”
“Yes, sir, you! You are all here—every action of your vile anddangerous life.”
“Damn you, Holmes!” cried the Count with blazing eyes. “Thereare limits to my patience!”
“It’s all here, Count. The real facts as to the death of old Mrs.
Harold, who left you the Blymer estate, which you so rapidlygambled away.”
“You are dreaming!”
“And the complete life history of Miss Minnie Warrender.”
