ˈwɒt ə ˈwʊmən | ˈəʊ ˈwɒt ə ˈwʊmən
ˈkraɪd ðə ˈkɪŋ əv bəˈhiːmiə | ˈwen wid ˈɔːl ˈθriː ˈred ðɪs ɪˈpɪsl̩ ||
ˈdɪd aɪ ˈnɒt ˈtel ju | ˈhaʊ ˈkwɪk ən ˈrezəluːt ʃi ˈwɒz || ˈwʊd ʃi
ˈnɒt əv ˈmeɪd ən ˈæbrəbl̩ ˈkwiːn || ˈɪz ɪt ˈnɒt ə ˈpɪti | ʃi wəz
ˈnɒt ɒm maɪ ˈlevl̩
frəm ˈwɒt aɪv ˈsiːn ə ðə ˈleɪdi
| ʃi ˈsiːmz ɪnˈdiːd | tə bi ˈɒn ə ˈveri ˈdɪfrənt ˈlevl̩ | tə jɔː
ˈmæʤəsti ˈsed ˈhəʊmz ˈkəʊldli || aɪm ˈsɒri ðət aɪv ˈnɒp biːn ˈeɪbl̩
| tə ˈbrɪŋ jɔː ˈmæʤəstiz ˈbɪznəs | tu ə ˈmɔː səkˈsesfl̩ kəŋˈkluːʒn̩
ˈɒn ðə ˈkɒntrəri maɪ ˈdɪə ˈsɜː |
ˈkraɪd ðə ˈkɪŋ | ˈnʌθɪŋ kəb bi ˈmɔː səkˈsesfl̩ || aɪ ˈnəʊ ðət ɜː
ˈwɜːdz ɪnˈvaɪələt || ðə ˈfəʊtəɡrɑːfs ˈnaʊ əz ˈseɪf | əz ˈɪf ɪt
wər ˈɪn ðə ˈfaɪə
aɪm ˈɡlæd tə ˈhɪə jɔː ˈmæʤəsti ˈseɪ
ˈsəʊ
aɪm ɪˈmensli ɪnˈdetɪd tə ju ||
ˈpreɪ ˈtel mi | ɪn ˈwɒt ˈweɪ aɪ kən rɪˈwɔːʤu || ˈðɪs ˈrɪŋ
|| hi ˈslɪpt ən ˈemrəld ˈsneɪk ˈrɪŋ | frəm ɪz ˈfɪŋɡə | ən ˈheld
ɪt ˈaʊt | ɒn ðə ˈpɑːm əv ɪz ˈhænd
jɔː ˈmæʤəsti ˈhæz ˈsʌmθɪŋ | wɪʧ
aɪ ʃəd ˈvæljuː ˈiːvn̩ ˈmɔː ˈhaɪli ˈsed ˈhəʊmz
ju ˈhæv ˈbʌt tə ˈneɪm ɪt
ˈðɪs ˈfəʊtəɡrɑːf
ðə ˈkɪŋ ˈsteəd ət ɪm ɪn əˈmeɪzmənt
ˈaɪriːnz ˈfəʊtəɡrɑːf i ˈkraɪd ||
ˈsɜːtn̩li | ɪf ju ˈwɪʃ ɪt
aɪ ˈθæŋk jɔː ˈmæʤəsti || ˈðen
ðəz ˈnəʊ ˈmɔː tə bi ˈdʌn ɪn ðə ˈmætə || aɪ ˈhæv ði ˈɒnə tə ˈwɪʃ
ju | ə ˈveri ˈɡʊb ˈmɔːnɪŋ || hi ˈbaʊd | ən ˈtɜːnɪŋ əˈweɪ |
wɪˈðaʊt əbˈzɜːvɪŋ ðə ˈhænd | wɪʧ ðə ˈkɪŋ əd ˈstreʧt ˈaʊt tu ɪm |
hi ˈset ˈɒf ɪm maɪ ˈkʌmpəni | fər ɪz ˈʧeɪmbəz
ən ˈðæt wəz ˈhaʊ ə ˈɡreɪt ˈskændl̩
| ˈθretn̩ tu əˈfek ðə ˈkɪŋdəm əv bəˈhiːmiə | ən ˈhaʊ ðə ˈbes ˈplænz əv ˈmɪstə
ˈʃɜːlɒk ˈhəʊmz | wə ˈbiːpm̩ baɪ ə ˈwʊmənz ˈwɪt || hi ˈjuːs tə
ˈmeɪk ˈmeri | ˈəʊvə ðə ˈklevənəs əv ˈwɪmɪn | bət aɪv ˈnɒt ˈhɜːd
ɪm ˈduː ɪt əv ˈleɪt || ən ˈwen i ˈspiːks əv ˈaɪriːn ˈædlə | ɔː
ˈwen i rɪˈfɜːz tu ɜː ˈfəʊtəɡrɑːf | ɪts ˈɔːwɪz ˈʌndə ði ˈɒnrəbl̩ ˈtaɪtl̩
| əv ˈðiː ˈwʊmən
Doyle, Arthur Conan. The Original Illustrated Sherlock Holmes. “Reproduced from the original publication in The Strand Magazine with the classic illustrations by Sidney Paget.” Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books, [after 1954]. Internet Archive version of a copy donated by Friends of the San Francisco Library. http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/pagets/10.html
“What a woman—oh,
what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, when we had all three read this
epistle. “Did I not tell you how quick and resolute she was? Would she not have
made an admirable queen? Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?”
“From what I have
seen of the lady she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your
Majesty,” said Holmes coldly. “I am sorry that I have not been able to bring
your Majesty's business to a more successful conclusion.”
“On the contrary, my
dear sir,” cried the King; “nothing could be more successful. I know that her
word is inviolate. The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire.”
“I am glad to hear
your Majesty say so.”
“I am immensely
indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward you. This ring—” He
slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and held it out upon the palm of
his hand.
“Your Majesty has
something which I should value even more highly,” said Holmes.
“You have but to name
it.”
“This photograph!”
The King stared at
him in amazement.
“Irene's photograph!”
he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.”
“I thank your
Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter. I have the honour to
wish you a very good-morning.” He bowed, and, turning away without observing
the hand which the King had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for
his chambers.
And that was how a great
scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of Bohemia, and how the best plans of
Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a woman's wit. He used to make merry over
the cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he
speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under
the honourable title of the woman.
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