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Tonight, we'll read the first half too, the adventure of Charles Augustus,

Milverton, written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as part of 1903's The Return of Sherlock Holmes. The second half will air next week. In this story, Holmes is hired by the debutante, Lady Ava Blackwell, to retrieve compromising letters from a blackmailer named Milverton. The accused was known as the King of Blackmailers, where he would demand great sums in exchange to avoid the release of letters that would cause great scandals. Doyle's literary inspiration often came from his natural interest in crime, and he had no tolerance for those that prayed on the innocent and unsuspecting.

The character of Charles Augustus Milverton was based on a real-life blackmailer,

Charles Augustus Howell. He was an art dealer who prayed upon unknown number of people,

and died in 1890 from circumstances as bizarre as those found in the author's imagination.

Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now take a few deep breaths. is year since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is with dividends that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the facts public.

But now, the principled person concerned is beyond the reach of human law,

and with due suppression, the story may be told in such fashion as to injure no one.

It records an absolutely unique experience in the career both of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and of myself. The reader will excuse me if I can seal the date, or any other fact by which he might trace the actual occurrence. We had been out for one of our evening rambles, homes and eye, and had returned about six o'clock on a cold frosty winter's evening. As homes turned up, the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at it, and then, with a of disgust through it on the floor, I picked it up and read. Tarls Augustus, Milverton, Appledoor Towers, Hampstead, Agent. Who is he? I asked. The worst man in London. Holmes answered, as he sat down and stretched his legs before the fire. Is anything on the back of the card? I turned it over. call at 630 630CAM. I read. Hmm, he's about to. Do you feel a creeping, shrinking sensation Watson when you stand before the serpents in the zoo and see the slithery gliding creatures. Well, that's how Milverton impresses me. I've had to do with many villainous criminals in my career, but the worst of them never gave me the repulsion which I have for this fellow. And yet, I can't get out of doing business with him. Indeed, he is here at my invitation. But who is he? I'll tell you Watson. He is the king of all the blackmailers. Heaven helped the man, and still more the woman, who secret and reputation come into the power of Milverton. With a smiling face and heart of marble, he will squeeze and squeeze until he has drained them dry. The fellow is a genius in his way and would have made his mark in some more savory trade. His method is as follows. He allows it to be known that he is prepared to pay very high sums for letters which compromise people of wealth and position. He receives these wares not only from treacherous valleys or maids, but frequently from Gent, who have gained the confidence and affection of trusting women. He deals with no stingy hand. I happen to know that he paid 700 pounds to a foot man for a note two lines in length, and that the ruin of a noble family was the result. everything which is in the market goes to Movertin, and there are hundreds in this great city who turn white at his name. No one knows where his grip may fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning to work from hand to mouth. He will hold a card back for years in order to play it at the moment when the stake is best worth winning. I have said that he is the worst man in London, and I would ask you how could one compare the Ruffian, who in hot temper beats his mate with this man, whom methodically, and at his leisure, rings the nerves in order to add to his already swollen moneybags. I had seldom heard my friends speak with such intensity of feeling. But surely, said I, the fellow must be within the grasp of the law. Technically, no doubt. But practically not. What would it profit a woman, for example, to get him a few months imprisonment if her own ruin must immediately follow? His victims dare not hit back. If ever he blackmailed an innocent person, then indeed we should have him, but he is as cunning as the evil one. No, no. We must find other ways to fight him. And why is he here? Because an illustrious client has placed her pitiest case in my hands. It is the Lady Blackwell, the most beautiful deputyante of last season. She is to be married in a fortnight to the Earl of Dover Court. This fiend has several imprudent letters, imprudent Watson, nothing worse, which were written to a young squire in the country. They would suffice to break off the match. Melverton will send the letters to the Earl, unless a large sum of money has paid him. I have been commissioned to meet him, and to make the best terms I can. At that instant, there was a clatter and a rattle in the street below. Looking down, I saw a stately carriage and pair, the brilliant lamps gleaming on the glossy haunches of the noble chestnuts. A foot man opened the door and a small, stout man in a shaggy, overcoat descended. A minute later, he was in the room. Charles Augustus Milvertin was a man of fifty, with a large intellectual head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad gold-ridden glasses. There was something of Mr. Pickwick's benevolence in his appearance, marred only by the insincereity of the fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those restless and penetrating eyes. His voice was as smooth and swath as his countenance. As he advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring his regret for having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite.

Milverton's smile broadened. He shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat. gentleman said he were the wave in my direction, is it discreet? Is it right? Dr. Watson is my friend and partner, very good Mr. Holmes. It is only in your client's interests that I protested. The matter is so very delicate. Dr. Watson

has already heard of it. Then we can proceed to business. You say that you are acting for Lady Blackwell. Has she empowered you to accept my terms?

What are your terms? Seven thousand pounds. And the alternative? Mind your sir. It is painful for me to discuss it, but if the money is not paid on the 14th, there certainly will be no marriage

on the 18th. His insufferable smile was more complacent than ever. Holmes thought for a little. You appear to me, he said, at last, to be taking matters too much for granted. I am, of course, familiar with the contents of these letters. My client will certainly do what I may advise. I shall counsel her to tell her future husband the whole story and to trust his generosity." Milverton chuckled, "'You evidently do not know the Earl,' said he. From the baffled look upon Holmes' face, I could see clearly that he did. What harm is there in the letters, he asked. They are sprightly. They're sprightly." Milvertine answered. The lady was a charming correspondent, but I can assure you that the Earl of Dover Court would fail to appreciate them. However, since you think otherwise, we will let it rest at that. It is purely a matter of business. If you think that it is in the best interests of your client that these letters should be placed in the hands of the Earl, then you would indeed be foolish to pay so large as some of money to regain them. He rose and seized his coat. Holmes was gray with anger and mortification. Wait a little. He said, you go too fast. We should certainly make every effort to avoid scandal in so delicate a matter. Milverton relapsed into his chair. I was sure that you would see it in that light. He perred. At the same time, Holmes continued, Lady Blackwell is not a wealthy woman. I assure you that two thousand pounds would be a drain upon her resources, and that the sum you name is utterly beyond her power. I beg therefore that you will moderate your demands and that you will return the letters at the price I indicate, which is, I assure you, the highest that you can get. Melverton smiled broadened and his eyes twinkled humorously. I am aware that would you say is true about the lady's resources." Said he, At the same time, you must admit that the occasion of a lady's marriage is a very suitable time for her friends and relatives to make some little effort upon her behalf. They may hesitate as to an acceptable wedding present.

Let me assure you that this little bundle of letters would give more joy than all the candelabra and butter dishes in London. It is impossible, said Holmes.

Dear me, dear me, how unfortunate. cried Milvertin. Taking out a bulky pocketbook. I cannot help thinking that ladies are ill advised and not making an effort. Look at this. He held up a little note with a coat of arms upon the envelope. That belongs to—well, perhaps it is hardly fair to tell the name until tomorrow morning, but at that time it will be in the hands of the lady's husband. And all because she will not find a beggarly sum which she could get by turning her diamonds into paste. Oh, this is such a pity. Now, you remember the sudden end of the engagement between the honorable Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two days before the wedding. There was a paragraph in the morning post to say that it was all off. And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum of 1200 pounds would have settled the whole question. Is it not pitiful? And here I find you, a man of sense, boggling about terms when your client's future and honor are at stake. You surprise me, Mr. Holmes? What I say is true, Holmes answered. The money cannot be found. Surely it is better for you to take this substantial sum which I offer than to ruin this woman's career. Which can profit you in no way. Well, there you make a mistake, Mr. Holmes. An exposure would profit me indirectly to a considerable extent. I have eight or ten similar cases maturing. If it was circulated among them that I had made a severe example of the lady, I should find all of them much more open to reason. Do you see my point? Holmes spraying from his chair. Get behind him Watson. Don't let him out. Now, sir, let us see the contents of that notebook. over to an had glided as quick as a rat to the side of the room and stood with his back against the wall. Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes. He said, turning the front of his coat and exhibiting the butt of a large revolver which projected from the inside pocket. I have been expecting you to do something original. This has been done so often, and what good has ever come from it. I assure you that I am armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared to use my weapons knowing that the law will support me. Besides, your supposition that I would bring the letters here in a notebook is entirely mistaken. I would do nothing so foolish. And now, gentlemen, I have one or two little interviews this evening, and it is

a long drive to Hampstead.

He stepped forward, took up his coat, laid his hand on his revolver, and turned to the door. I picked up a chair, but Holmes shook his head, and I laid it down again. With a bow, a smile, and a twinkle, Milverton was out of the room, and a few moments after we heard the slam of the carriage door in the rattle of the wheels as he drove away. Homes sat motionless by the fire. His hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. His chin sunk upon his breast. His eyes fixed upon the glowing embers. For half an hour he was silent and still. Then, with the gesture of a man who has taken his decision, he sprang to his feet and passed into his bedroom. A little later, a raker-sh-young workman with a gotie beard and a swagger, lit his clay pipe at the lamp before descending into the street. I'll be back some time, Watson, said he, and vanished into the night. I understood that he had opened his campaign against Charles Augustus Melverton, but I little dreamed the strange shape which that campaign was destined to take. For some days, Holmes came and went, at all hours in the satire. beyond a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead, and that it was not wasted, I knew nothing of what he was doing. At last, however, on a wild stormy evening, when the winds screamed and rattled against the windows, he returned from his last expedition, and having removed his disguise, he sat before the fire and laughed heartily in his silent inward fashion. You would not call me a marrying man, Watson? No, indeed. You will be interested to hear that I am engaged. My dear fellow, I can grudge to Milvertin'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. That's got my 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 Milvertons' house as I know the palm of my hand. But the girl homes. He shrugged his shoulders. You can't help it Watson, you must play your cards as best you can when such a stake is on the table. However, I rejoice to say that I have a heated rival who will certainly cut me out the instant that my bag has turned.

What a splendid night it is.

You like this weather?

It suits my purpose Watson.

I mean to burgle Milvertons' house tonight.

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