Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton: Part Two

Episode Date: May 7, 2025

Our heroes become criminals as they prepare to break into Charles Augustus Milverton’s fortress-like home. But their plan to retrieve the blackmail material is interrupted when a ghost from Milverton’s past shows up unexpectedly…  A Noiser podcast production. Narrated by Hugh Bonneville  Written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Produced by Katrina Hughes and Addison Nugent Sound Design and Audio Editing by Matt Peaty Compositions: Dorry Macaulay and Oliver Baines Mix & Mastering: Liam Cameron Series Consultant: Dan Smith For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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living unlimited. Conditions apply to all benefits. Visit pcfinancial.ca for details. Welcome to Sherlock Holmes Short Stories. I'm Hugh Bonneville and from the Noiser Podcast Network, this is The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, Part 2. Last time we met the criminal Holmes calls the worst man in London, Charles Augustus Milverton, a prolific blackmailer who preys on Britain's elite. His latest victim, Lady Eva Blackwell, came to Holmes for help after Milverton threatened to use compromising letters from her past to ruin her impending marriage to the Earl of Dovercourt unless she paid him £7,000, as some she didn't

have. Holmes summoned Milverton to Baker Street and tried to reason with him, but the blackmailer refused to negotiate. In response, Holmes turned to drastic measures. He assumed the pseudonym Escott, disguised himself as a plumber, and courted Milverton's housemaid. From her, he learned the layout of the blackmailer's fortress-like home in Hampstead. Holmes then devised a plan to break into Milverton's house and retrieve the letters. Though initially reluctant, Watson insisted on joining Holmes, knowing that if caught, the pair risked being sent to prison. We left our heroes as they approached Milverton's home, Appledore Towers, under the cover of darkness.

Now they are about to don black burglarars masks and execute one of the most daring and dangerous exploits of their partnership With our black silk face coverings which turned us into two of the most truculent figures in London, we stole up to the silent gloomy house. A sort of tiled veranda extended along one side of it, lined by several windows and two doors. That's his bedroom, Holmes whispered. This door opened straight into the study. Holmes whispered, this door opens straight into the study. It would suit us best, but it is bolted as well as locked, and we should make too much noise getting in.

Come round here, there's a greenhouse which opens into the drawing room. The place was locked, but Holmes removed a circle of glass and turned the key from the inside. An instant afterwards he had closed the door behind us, and we had become felons in the eyes of the law. The thick, warm air of the conservatory and the the rich choking fragrance of exotic plants took us by the throat.

He seized my hand in the darkness and led me swiftly past banks of shrubs which brushed against our faces. Holmes had remarkable powers, carefully cultivated of seeing in the dark. Still holding my hand in one of his, he opened a door and I was vaguely conscious that we had entered a large room in which a cigar had been smoked not long before. He felt his way among the furniture, opened another door and closed it behind us. Putting out my hand, I felt several coats hanging from wall, and I understood that I was in a passage. We passed along it, and Holmes very gently opened a door upon the right-hand side.

Something rushed out at us, and my heart sprang into my mouth. But I could have laughed when I realized that it was the cat. A fire was burning in this new room, and again the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. Homes entered on tiptoe, waited for me to follow, and then very gently closed the door. the door. We were in Milverton's study, and a portier at the farther side showed the entrance to his bedroom. It was a good fire, and the room was illuminated by it. Near the door I saw the gleam of an electric switch, but it was unnecessary, even if it had been safe to turn it on. At one side of the fireplace was a heavy curtain which covered the bay window we had seen from outside.

On the other side was the door which communicated with the veranda. A desk stood in the center, with a turning chair of shining red leather. Opposite was a large bookcase, with a marble bust of Athene on the top. In the corner between the bookcase and the wall there stood a tall green safe, the firelight flashing back from the polished brass knobs upon its face. Holmes stole across and looked at it. Then he crept to the door of the bedroom and stood with slanting head listening intently. No sound came from within. Meanwhile, it had struck me that it would be wise

to secure a retreat through the outer door, so I examined it. To my amazement, it was neither locked nor bolted. I touched Holmes on the arm and he turned his masked face in that direction. I saw him start and he was evidently as surprised as I. I don't like it, he whispered, putting his lips to my very ear. I can't quite make it out.

Anyhow, we have no time to lose. Can I do anything? Yes. Stand by the door. If you hear anyone come, bolt it on the inside and we can get away as we came. If they come the other way, we can get through the door if our job is done, or hide behind these window curtains if it is not, do you understand?" I nodded and stood by the door.

My first feeling of fear had passed away, and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I had ever enjoyed when we were the defenders of the law instead of its defiers. The high object of our mission, the consciousness that it was unselfish and chivalrous, the villainous character of our opponent, all added to the sporting interest of the adventure. Far from feeling guilty, I rejoiced and exulted in our dangers. With a glow of admiration I watched Holmes unrolling his case of instruments and choosing his tool with the calm, scientific accuracy of a surgeon who performs a delicate operation. I knew that the opening of safes was a particular

hobby with him, and I understood the joy which it gave him to be confronted with this green and gold monster, the dragon which held in its more the reputations of many fair ladies. Turning up the cuffs of his dresscoat, he had placed his overcoat on a chair, Holmes laid out two drills, a jemmy, and several skeleton keys. I stood at the center door with my eyes glancing at each of the others, ready for any emergency, though indeed my plans were somewhat vague as to what I should do if we were interrupted. For half an hour, Holmes worked with concentrated energy, laying down one tool, picking up another, handling each with the strength and delicacy of the trained mechanic. Finally, I heard a click.

The broad green door swung open, and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paper packets, each tied, sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out, but it was hard to read by the flickering fire, and he drew out his little dark lantern, for it was too dangerous, with Milberton in the next room, to switch on the electric light. Suddenly, I saw him halt. Listen intently, and then, in an an instant he had swung the door of the safe too, picked up his coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, and darted behind the window curtain, motioning me to do the same. It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what had

alarmed his quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within the house. A door slammed in the distance, then a confused, dull murmur broke itself into the measured thud of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. They were in the passage outside the room. They paused at the door. The door opened. There was a sharp snick as the electric light was turned on. The door closed once more and the pungent reek of a strong cigar was born to our nostrils. Then the footsteps continued backward and forward, backward and forward within a few yards of us. Finally there was a creak from a chair and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clicked in a lock and I heard the rustle of papers. So far I had not dared to look out,

but now I gently parted the division of the curtains in front of me and peeped through. From the pressure of Holmes's shoulder against mine I knew that he was sharing my observations. Right in front of us, and almost within our reach, was the broad, rounded back of Milverton. It was evident that we had entirely miscalculated his movements, that he had never been to his bedroom, but that he had been sitting up in some smoking or billiard room in the farther wing of the house, the windows of which we had not seen. His broad, grizzled head, with its shining patch of baldness, was in the immediate foreground

of our vision. He was leaning far back in the red leather chair, his legs outstretched, a long black cigar projecting at an angle from his mouth. He wore a semi-military smoking jacket, claret-colored, with a black velvet collar. In his hand, he held a long legal document, which he was reading in an indolent fashion, blowing rings of tobacco smoke from his lips as he did so. There was no promise of a speedy departure in his composed bearing and his comfortable attitude.

I felt Holmes' hands steel into mine and give me a reassuring shake, as if to say that the situation was within his powers and that he was easy in his mind. I was not sure whether he had seen what was only too obvious from my position that the door of the safe was imperfectly closed and that Milverton might at any moment observe it. In my own mind I had determined that if I were sure from the rigidity of his gaze that it had caught his eye I would at once spring out throw my greatcoat over his head pinion him and leave the rest to Holmes But Milverton never looked up

he was languidly interested by the papers in his hand and Page after page was turned as he followed the argument of the lawyer and page after page was turned as he followed the argument of the lawyer. At least, I thought, when he has finished the document and the cigar he will go to his room. But before he had reached the end of either, there came a remarkable development, which turned our thoughts into quite another channel. Several times I had observed that Milverton looked at his watch, and once he had risen and sat down again with a gesture of impatience. The idea, however, that he might have an appointment at so strange an hour never occurred to me

until a faint sound reached my ears from the veranda outside. Milverton dropped his papers and sat rigid in his chair. The sound was repeated. And then there came a gentle tap at the door. Milverton rose and opened it. Well, he said curtly, "'you are nearly half an hour late.'" So this was the explanation of the unlocked door and the nocturnal vigil of Milverton.

There was the gentle rustle of a woman's dress. I had closed the slit between the curtains as Milbertin's face had turned in our direction, but now I ventured very carefully to open it once more. He had resumed his seat, the cigar still projecting at an insolent angle from the corner of his mouth. In front of him, in the full glare of the electric light, there stood a tall, slim, dark woman, a veil over her face, a mantle drawn round her chin. Her breath came quick and fast, and every inch of the lithe figure was quivering with strong emotion.

Well," said Milberton, "'you made me lose a good night's rest, my dear. I hope you'll prove worth it. You couldn't come at any other time, eh?" The woman shook her head. Well, if you couldn't, you couldn't. If the Countess is a hard mistress, you have your chance to get level with her now. Bless the girl, what are you shivering about? That's right.

Pull yourself together. Now, let us get down to business. He took a notebook from the drawer of his desk. You say that you have five letters which compromise the Countess d'Albert. You want to sell them. I want to buy them. So far so good. It only remains to fix a price. I should want to inspect the letters, of course, if they are really good specimens. Great heavens! Is it you?"

The woman, without a word, had raised her veil and dropped the mantle from her chin. It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut face which confronted Milverton, a face with a curved nose, strong, dark eyebrows, shading hard, glittering eyes, and a straight, thin-lipped mouth set in a dangerous smile. "'It is I,' she said, "'the woman whose life you have ruined." Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. "'You were so very obstinate,' said he. "'Why did you drive me to such extremities?

I assure you I wouldn't hurt a fly of my own accord. But every man has his business, and what was I to do? I put the price well within your means, you would not pay." So you sent the letters to my husband, and he, the noblest gentleman that ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthy to lace, he broke his gallant heart and died. You remember that last night when I came through that door, I begged and prayed you for mercy and you laughed in my face as you are trying to laugh now. Only your coward heart cannot keep your lips from twitching. Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it was that

night which taught me how I could meet you face to face and alone Well, Charles Milverton, what have you to say? Don't imagine that you can Bully me said he rising to his feet I have only to raise my voice and I could call my servants and have you arrested But I will make allowance for your natural anger Leave the room at once as you came and I will say no more." The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom and the same deadly smile on her thin lips.

"'You will ruin no more lives as you have ruined mine. You will wring no more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take that, you hound, and that, and that, and that!" She had drawn a little gleaming revolver and emptied barrel after barrel into Milverton's body, the muzzle within two feet of his shirt front. He shrank away and then fell forward upon the table, coughing furiously and clawing among the papers. Then he staggered to his feet, received another shot, and rolled upon the floor.

You've done me! He cried and lay still. The woman looked at him intently and ground her heel into his upturned face. She looked again, but there was no sound or movement. I heard a sharp rustle, the night air blew into the heated room, and the Avenger was gone. No interference upon our part could have saved the man from his fate, but as the woman poured bullet after bullet into Milverton's shrinking body, I was about to spring out when I felt Holmes' cold, strong grasp upon my wrist. bullet into Milverton's shrinking body, I was about to spring out when I felt Holmes's

cold, strong grasp upon my wrist. I understood the whole argument of that firm, restraining grip—that it was no affair of ours, that justice had overtaken a villain, that we had our own duties and our own objects which were not to be lost sight of. But hardly had the woman rushed from the room when Holmes, with swift, silent steps, was over at the other door. He turned the key in the lock.

At the same instant, we heard voices in the house and the sound of hurrying feet. The revolver shots had roused the household. With perfect coolness, Holmes slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with bundles of letters, and poured them all into the fire. Again and again he did it, until the safe was empty. Someone turned the handle and beat upon the outside of the door. Holmes looked swiftly round. The letter, which had been the messenger of death for Milverton Lay, all mottled with his blood upon the table. Holmes tossed it in among the blazing papers. Then he drew the key from the outer door, passed through

after me, and locked it on the outside. This way, Watson, said he. We can scale the garden wall in this direction. Hey Watson," said he, we can scale the garden wall in this direction. I could not have believed that an alarm could have spread so swiftly. Looking back, the huge house was one blaze of light. The front door was open and figures were rushing down the drive. The whole garden was alive with people, and one fellow raised a view-hello as we emerged from the veranda and followed hard at our heels. Holmes seemed to know the grounds perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly among a plantation of small trees,

I close at his heels, and our foremost pursuer panting behind us. It was a six-foot wall which barred our path, but he sprang to the top and over. As I did the same, I felt the hand of the man behind me grab at my ankle, but I kicked myself free and scrambled over a grass-strewn coping. I fell upon my face among some bushes, but Holmes had me on my feet in an instant, and together we dashed away across the huge expanse of Hampstead Heath. We had run two miles, I suppose, before Holmes at last halted and listened intently. All was absolute silence behind us. We had shaken off our pursuers and were safe.

We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the day after the remarkable experience which I have recorded, when Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our modest sitting-room. Good morning, Mr. Holmes, said he. Good morning. Uh, may I ask if you are very busy just now?' "'Not too busy to listen to you. I thought that perhaps if you had nothing particular on hand you might care to assist

us in a most remarkable case, which occurred only last night at Hampstead.' "'Dear me,' said Holmes. What was that? A murder. A most dramatic and remarkable murder. I know how keen you are upon these things and I would take it as a great favor if you would step down to Appledore Towers and give us the benefit of your advice. It is no ordinary crime.

We have had our eyes upon this Mr. Milverton for some time, and between ourselves he was a bit of a villain. He is known to have held papers which he used for blackmailing purposes. These papers have all been burned by the murderers. No article of value was taken, as it is probable that the criminals were men of good position, whose sole object was to prevent social exposure. — Criminals?

said Holmes. — Plural? — Yes, there were two of them. They were as nearly as possible captured red-handed. We have their footmarks, we have their description, it's ten to one that we trace them. The first fellow was a bit too active, but the second was caught by the undergardener and only got away after a struggle. He was a middle-sized, strongly built man, square jaw, thick neck, mustache, a mask over his eyes."

"'That's rather vague,' said Sherlock Holmes. "'My, it might be a description of Watson.' — — — — — — — — — — —

— — — — — — — —

— — — — — — — — — — Wilverton, that I considered him one of the most dangerous men in London, and that I think there are certain crimes which the law cannot touch and which therefore, to some extent, justify private revenge. No, it's no use arguing.

I've made up my mind. My sympathies are with the criminals rather than the victim, and I will not handle this case." Holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy which we had witnessed, but I observed all the morning that he was in his most thoughtful mood, and he gave me the impression from his vacant eyes and his abstracted manner of a man who is striving to recall something to his memory. We were in the middle of our lunch when he suddenly sprang to his feet.

"'By Jove, Watson, I've got it!' he cried. "'Take your hat, come with me!' He hurried at his top speed down Baker Street and along Oxford Street until we had almost reached Regent Circus. Here on the left hand there stands a shop window filled with photographs of the celebrities and beauties of the day. Holmes' eyes fixed themselves upon one of them, and following his gaze I saw the picture of a regal and stately lady in court dress, with a high diamond tiara upon her noble head. I looked at that delicately curved nose,

at the marked eyebrows, at the straight mouth, and the strong little chin beneath it. Then I caught my breath as I read the time-honored title of the great nobleman and statesman whose wife she had been. My eyes met those of Holmes and he put his finger to his lips as we turned away from the window. Next time on Sherlock Holmes short, a desperate diplomat arrives at 221B Baker Street, drawing Holmes and Watson into a web of international intrigue in The Naval Treaty.

The diplomat was charged with copying a top-secret treaty between Britain and Italy, but when the document mysteriously vanished from his desk in the middle of the night, it shattered both his career and sanity. Now, recovered from the brain fever that followed, he turns to Holmes for help. But this is far from a straightforward case of theft. A bell that chimes in an empty room. A cup of coffee that never arrives. Every seemingly mundane detail hints at a darker scheme at work.

But will Sherlock be able to piece it all together before the naval treaty falls into enemy hands? Find out next time. Can't wait a week until the next episode? Well, listen to it right away by subscribing to Noiza Plus. Head to www.noiza.com slash subscriptions for more information or click the link in the episode description.