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In this incredible adventure, Sherlock Holmes and Watson must face the terrible Charles Milverton, a famous blackmailer with the most dreadful reputation in the crime world. Once negotiating with the villain has no effect, Holmes adopts a risky strategy that challenges both morality and the law. But a twist in the story can send shivers down even the famous detective spine, showing that vengeance is, indeed, a dish best served cold.
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In this incredible adventure, Sherlock Holmes and Watson must face the terrible Charles Milverton, a famous blackmailer with the most dreadful reputation in the crime world. Once negotiating with the villain has no effect, Holmes adopts a risky strategy that challenges both morality and the law. But a twist in the story can send shivers down even the famous detective spine, showing that vengeance is, indeed, a dish best served cold.
Revenge, Blackmailing, Morality
This text is a work in the public domain and reflects the norms, values and perspectives of its time. Some readers may find parts of this content offensive or disturbing, given the evolution in social norms and in our collective understanding of issues of equality, human rights and mutual respect. We ask readers to approach this material with an understanding of the historical era in which it was written, recognizing that it may contain language, ideas or descriptions that are incompatible with today's ethical and moral standards.
Names from foreign languages will be preserved in their original form, with no translation.
It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is with diffidence 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 principal 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 conceal the date or any other fact by which he might trace the actual occurrence.
We had been out for one of our evening rambles, Holmes and I, and had returned about six o’clock on a cold, frosty winter’s evening. As Holmes turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on the floor. I picked it up and read:
CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON,Appledore 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.
“Will call at 6:30—C.A.M.,” I read.
“Hum! He’s about due. Do you feel a creeping, shrinking sensation, Watson, when you stand before the serpents in the Zoo, and see the slithery, gliding, venomous creatures, with their deadly eyes and wicked, flattened faces? Well, that’s how Milverton impresses me. I’ve had to do with fifty murderers 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?”