The sign of Four -Chapter 10 The End of the Islander

Our meal was a merry one. Holmes could talk exceedingly well
when he chose, and that night he did choose. He appeared to be
in a state of nervous exaltation. I have never known him so
brilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects -- on miracle
plays, on medieval pottery, on Stradivarius violins, on the
Buddhism of Ceylon, and on the warships of the future -- handling
each as though he had made a special study of it. His bright
humour marked the reaction from his black depression of the
preceding days. Athelney Jones proved to be a sociable soul in
his hours of relaxation and faced his dinner with the air of a bon
vivant. For myself, I felt elated at the thought that we were
nearing the end of our task, and I caught something of Holmes's
gaiety. None of us alluded during dinner to the cause which had
brought us together.
When the cloth was cleared Holmes glanced at his watch and
filled up three glasses with port.
"One bumper," said he, "to the success of our little expedi-
tion. And now it is high time we were off. Have you a pistol
Watson?"
"I have my old service-revolver in my desk."
"You had best take it, then. It is well to be prepared. I see
that the cab is at the door. I ordered it for half-past six."
It was a little past seven before we reached the Westminster
wharf and found our launch awaiting us. Holmes eyed it critically.
"Is there anything to mark it as a police-boat?"
"Yes, that green lamp at the side."
"Then take it off."
The small change was made, we stepped on board, and the
ropes were cast off. Jones, Holmes, and I sat in the stern. There
was one man at the rudder, one to tend the engines, and two
burly police-inspectors forward.
"Where to?" asked Jones.
"To the Tower. Tell them to stop opposite to Jacobson's
Yard."
Our craft was evidently a very fast one. We shot past the long
lines of loaded barges as though they were stationary. Holmes
smiled with satisfaction as we overhauled a river steamer and left
her behind us.
"We ought to be able to catch anything on the river," he said.
"Well, hardly that. But there are not many launches to beat
us."
"We shall have to catch the Aurora, and she has a name for
being a clipper. I will tell you how the land lies, Watson. You
recollect how annoyed I was at being baulked by so small a
thing?"
"Yes."
"Well, I gave my mind a thorough rest by plunging into a
chemical analysis. One of our greatest statesmen has said that a
change of work is the best rest. So it is. When I had succeeded
in dissolving the hydrocarbon which I was at work at, I came
back to our problem of the Sholtos, and thought the whole matter
out again. My boys had been up the river and down the river
without result. The launch was not at any landing-stage or wharf,
nor had it returned. Yet it could hardly have been scuttled to hide
their traces, though that always remained as a possible hypothe-
sis if all else failed. I knew that this man Small had a certain
degree of low cunning, but I did not think him capable of
anything in the nature of delicate finesse. That is usually a
product of higher education. I then reflected that since he had
certainly been in London some time -- as we had evidence that he
maintained a continual watch over Pondicherry Lodge -- he could
hardly leave at a moment's notice, but would need some little
time, if it were only a day, to arrange his affairs. That was the
balance of probability, at any rate."
"It seems to me to be a little weak," said I; "it is more
probable that he had arranged his affairs before ever he set out
upon his expedition."
"No, I hardly think so. This lair of his would be too valuable
a retreat in case of need for him to give it up until he was sure
that he could do without it. But a second consideration struck
me. Jonathan Small must have felt that the peculiar appearance
of his companion, however much he may have top-coated him,
would give rise to gossip, and possibly be associated with this
Norwood tragedy. He was quite sharp enough to see that. They
had started from their headquarters under cover of darkness, and
he would wish to get back before it was broad light. Now, it was
past three o'clock, according to Mrs. Smith, when they got the
boat. It would be quite bright, and people would be about in an
hour or so. Therefore, I argued, they did not go very far. They
paid Smith well to hold his tongue, reserved his launch for the
final escape, and hurried to their lodgings with the treasure-box.
In a couple of nights, when they had time to see what view the
papers took, and whether there was any suspicion, they would
make their way under cover of darkness to some ship at Gravesend
or in the Downs, where no doubt they had already arranged for
passages to America or the Colonies."
"But the launch? They could not have taken that to their
lodgings."
"Quite so. l argued that the launch must be no great way off,
in spite of its invisibility. I then put myself in the place of Small
and looked at it as a man of his capacity would. He would
probably consider that to send back the launch or to keep it at a
wharf would make pursuit easy if the police did happen to get on
his track. How, then, could he conceal the launch and yet have
her at hand when wanted? I wondered what I should do myself if
I were in his shoes. I could only think of one way of doing it. I
might hand the launch over to some boat-builder or repairer,
with directions to make a trifling change in her. She would then
be removed to his shed or yard, and so be effectually concealed,
while at the same time I could have her at a few hours' notice."
"That seems simple enough."
"It is just these very simple things which are extremely liable
to be overlooked. However, I determined to act on the idea. I
started at once in this harmless seaman's rig and inquired at all
the yards down the river. I drew blank at fifteen, but at the
sixteenth -- Jacobson's -- I learned that the Aurora had been handed
over to them two days ago by a wooden-legged man, with some
trivial directions as to her rudder. 'There ain't naught amiss with
her rudder,' said the foreman. 'There she lies, with the red
streaks.' At that moment who should come down but Mordecai
Smith, the missing owner. He was rather the worse for liquor. I
should not, of course, have known him, but he bellowed out his
name and the name of his launch. 'I want her to-night at eight
o'clock,' said he -- 'eight o'clock sharp, mind, for I have two
gentlemen who won't be kept waiting.' They had evidently paid
him well, for he was very flush of money, chucking shillings
about to the men. I followed him some distance, but he subsided
into an alehouse; so I went back to the yard, and, happening to
pick up one of my boys on the way, I stationed him as a sentry
over the launch. He is to stand at the water's edge and wave his
handkerchief to us when they start. We shall be lying off in the
stream, and it will be a strange thing if we do not take men,
treasure, and all."
"You have planned it all very neatly, whether they are the
right men or not," said Jones; "but if the affair were in my
hands I should have had a body of police in Jacobson's Yard and
arrested them when they came down."
"Which would have been never. This man Small is a pretty
shrewd fellow. He would send a scout on ahead, and if anything
made him suspicious he would lie snug for another week."
"But you might have stuck to Mordecai Smith, and so been
led to their hiding-place," said I.
"In that case I should have wasted my day. I think that it is a
hundred to one against Smith knowing where they live. As long
as he has liquor and good pay, why should he ask questions?
They send him messages what to do. No, I thought over every
possible course, and this is the best."
While this conversation had been proceeding, we had been
shooting the long series of bridges which span the Thames. As
we passed the City the last rays of the sun were gilding the cross
upon the summit of St. Paul's. It was twilight before we reached
the Tower.
"That is Jacobson's Yard," said Holmes, pointing to a bristle
of masts and rigging on the Surrey side. "Cruise gently up and
down here under cover of this string of lighters." He took a pair
of night-glasses from his pocket and gazed some time at the
shore. "I see my sentry at his post," he remarked, "but no sign
of a handkerchief."
"Suppose we go downstream a short way and lie in wait for
them," said Jones eagerly.
We were all eager by this time, even the policemen and
stokers, who had a very vague idea of what was going forward.
"We have no right to take anything for granted," Holmes
answered. "It is certainly ten to one that they go downstream,
but we cannot be certain. From this point we can see the
entrance of the yard, and they can hardly see us. It will be a
clear night and plenty of light. We must stay where we are. See
how the folk swarm over yonder in the gaslight."
"They are coming from work in the yard."
"Dirty-looking rascals, but I suppose every one has some little
immortal spark concealed about him. You would not think it, to
look at them. There is no a priori probability about it. A strange
enigma is man!"
"Someone calls him a soul concealed in an animal," I
suggested.
"Winwood Reade is good upon the subject," said Holmes.
"He remarks that, while the individual man is an insoluble
puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty.
You can, for example, never foretell what any one man will do,
but you can say with precision what an average number will be
up to. Individuals vary, but percentages remain constant. So says
the statistician. But do I see a handkerchief? Surely there is a
white flutter over yonder."
"Yes, it is your boy," I cried. "I can see him plainly."
"And there is the Aurora," exclaimed Holmes, "and going
like the devil! Full speed ahead, engineer. Make after that launch
with the yellow light. By heaven, I shall never forgive myself if
she proves to have the heels of us!"
She had slipped unseen through the yard-entrance and passed
between two or three small craft, so that she had fairly got her
speed up before we saw her. Now she was flying down the
stream, near in to the shore, going at a tremendous rate. Jones
looked gravely at her and shook his head.
"She is very fast," he said. "I doubt if we shall catch her."
"We must catch her!" cried Holmes between his teeth. "Heap
it on, stokers! Make her do all she can! If we burn the boat we
must have them!"
We were fairly after her now. The furnaces roared, and the
powerful engines whizzed and clanked like a great metallic
heart. Her sharp, steep prow cut through the still river-water and
sent two rolling waves to right and to left of us. With every throb
of the engines we sprang and quivered like a living thing. One
great yellow lantern in our bows threw a long, flickering funnel
of light in front of us. Right ahead a dark blur upon the water
showed where the Aurora lay, and the swirl of white foam
behind her spoke of the pace at which she was going. We flashed
past barges, steamers, merchant-vessels, in and out, behind this
one and round the other. Voices hailed us out of the darkness,
but still the Aurora thundered on, and still we followed close
upon her track.
"Pile it on, men, pile it on!" cried Holmes, looking down
into the engine-room, while the fierce glow from below beat
upon his eager, aquiline face. "Get every pound of steam you
can."
"I think we gain a little," said Jones with his eyes on the
Aurora.
"I am sure of it," said I. "We shall be up with her in a very
few minutes."
At that moment, however, as our evil fate would have it, a tug
with three barges in tow blundered in between us. It was only by
putting our helm hard down that we avoided a collision, and
before we could round them and recover our way the Aurora had
gained a good two hundred yards. She was still, however, well
in view, and the murky, uncertain twilight was settling into a
clear, starlit night. Our boilers were strained to their utmost, and
the frail shell vibrated and creaked with the fierce energy which
was driving us along. We had shot through the pool, past the
West India Docks, down the long Deptford Reach, and up again
after rounding the Isle of Dogs. The dull blur in front of us
resolved itself now clearly into the dainty Aurora. Jones turned
our searchlight upon her, so that we could plainly see the figures
upon her deck. One man sat by the stern, with something black
between his knees, over which he stooped. Beside him lay a dark
mass, which looked like a Newfoundland dog. The boy held the
tiller, while against the red glare of the furnace I could see old
Smith, stripped to the waist, and shovelling coals for dear life.
They may have had some doubt at first as to whether we were
really pursuing them, but now as we followed every winding and
turning which they took there could no longer be any question
about it. At Greenwich we were about three hundred paces
behind them. At Blackwall we could not have been more than
two hundred and fifty. I have coursed many creatures in many
countries during my checkered career, but never did sport give
me such a wild thrill as this mad, flying man-hunt down the
Thames. Steadily we drew in upon them, yard by yard. In the
silence of the night we could hear the panting and clanking of
their machinery. The man in the stern still crouched upon the
deck, and his arms were moving as though he were busy, while
every now and then he would look up and measure with a glance
the distance which still separated us. Nearer we came and nearer.
Jones yelled to them to stop. We were not more than four
boat's-lengths behind them, both boats flying at a tremendous
pace. It was a clear reach of the river, with Barking Level upon
one side and the melancholy Plumstead Marshes upon the other.
At our hail the man in the stern sprang up from the deck and
shook his two clenched fists at us, cursing the while in a high,
cracked voice. He was a good-sized, powerful man, and as he
stood poising himself with legs astride I could see that from the
thigh downward there was but a wooden stump upon the right
side. At the sound of his strident, angry cries, there was move-
ment in the huddled bundle upon the deck. It straightened itself
into a little black man -- the smallest I have ever seen -- with a
great, misshapen head and a shock of tangled, dishevelled hair.
Holmes had already drawn his revolver, and I whipped out mine
at the sight of this savage, distorted creature. He was wrapped in
some sort of dark ulster or blanket, which left only his face
exposed, but that face was enough to give a man a sleepless
night. Never have I seen features so deeply marked with all
bestiality and cruelty. His small eyes glowed and burned with a
sombre light, and his thick lips were writhed back from his teeth,
Which grinned and chattered at us with half animal fury.
"Fire if he raises his hand," said Holmes quietly.
We were within a boat's-length by this time, and almost
within touch of our quarry. I can see the two of them now as
they stood, the white man with his legs far apart, shrieking out
curses, and the unhallowed dwarf with his hideous face, and his
strong yellow teeth gnashing at us in the light of our lantern.
It was well that we had so clear a view of him. Even as we
looked he plucked out from under his covering a short, round
piece of wood, like a school-ruler, and clapped it to his lips. Our
pistols rang out together. He whirled round, threw up his arms
and, with a kind of choking cough, fell sideways into the stream.
I caught one glimpse of his venomous, menacing eyes amid the
white swirl of the waters. At the same moment the wooden-
legged man threw himself upon the rudder and put it hard down
so that his boat made straight in for the southern bank, while we
shot past her stern, only clearing her by a few feet. We were
round after her in an instant, but she was already nearly at the
bank. It was a wild and desolate place, where the moon glim-
mered upon a wide expanse of marsh-land, with pools of stag-
nant water and beds of decaying vegetation. The launch, with a
dull thud, ran up upon the mud-bank, with her bow in the air and
her stern flush with the water. The fugitive sprang out, but his
stump instantly sank its whole length into the sodden soil. In
vain he struggled and writhed. Not one step could he possibly
take either forward or backward. He yelled in impotent rage and
kicked frantically into the mud with his other foot, but his
struggles only bored his wooden pin the deeper into the sticky
bank. When we brought our launch alongside he was so firmly
anchored that it was only by throwing the end of a rope over his
shoulders that we were able to haul him out and to drag him, like
some evil fish, over our side. The two Smiths, father and son,
sat sullenly in their launch but came aboard meekly enough when
commanded. The Aurora herself we hauled off and made fast to
our stern. A solid iron chest of Indian workmanship stood upon
the deck. This, there could be no question, was the same that
had contained the ill-omened treasure of the Sholtos. There was
no key, but it was of considerable weight, so we transferred it
carefully to our own little cabin. As we steamed slowly upstream
again, we flashed our searchlight in every direction, but there
was no sign of the Islander. Somewhere in the dark ooze at the
bottom of the Thames lie the bones of that strange visitor to our
shores.
"See here," said Holmes, pointing to the wooden hatchway.
"We were hardly quick enough with our pistols;" There, sure
enough, just behind where we had been standing, stuck one of
those murderous darts which we knew so well. It must have
whizzed between us at the instant we fired. Holmes smiled at it
and shrugged his shoulders in his easy fashion, but I confess that
it turned me sick to think of the horrible death which had passed
so close to us that night.

The Sign Of Four chp-9 A Break in the Chain

It was late in the afternoon before I woke, strengthened and
refreshed. Sherlock Holmes still sat exactly as I had left him
save that he had laid aside his violin and was deep in a book. He
looked across at me as I stirred, and I noticed that his face was
dark and troubled.
"You have slept soundly," he said. "I feared that our talk
would wake you."
"I heard nothing," I answered. "Have you had fresh news,
then?"
"Unfortunately, no. I confess that I am surprised and disap-
pointed. I expected something definite by this time. Wiggins has
just been up to report. He says that no trace can be found of the
launch. It is a provoking check, for every hour is of importance."
"Can I do anything? I am perfectly fresh now, and quite ready
for another night's outing."
"No; we can do nothing. We can only wait. If we go our-
selves the message might come in our absence and delay be
caused. You can do what you will. but I must remain on guard."
"Then I shall run over to Camberwell and call upon Mrs.
Cecil Forrester. She asked me to, yesterday."
"On Mrs. Cecil Forrester?" asked Holmes with the twinkle of
a smile in his eyes.
"Well, of course on Miss Morstan, too. They were anxious to
hear what happened."
"I would not tell them too much," said Holmes. "Women
are never to be entirely trusted -- not the best of them."
I did not pause to argue over this atrocious sentiment.
"I shall be back in an hour or two," I remarked.
"All right! Good luck! But, I say, if you are crossing the river
you may as well return Toby, for I don't think it is at all likely
that we shall have any use for him now."
I took our mongrel accordingly and left him, together with a
half-sovereign, at the old naturalist's in Pinchin Lane. At
Camberwell I found Miss Morstan a little weary after her night's
adventures but very eager to hear the news. Mrs. Forrester, too,
was full of curiosity. I told them all that we had done, suppress-
ing, however, the more dreadful parts of the tragedy. Thus
although I spoke of Mr. Sholto's death, I said nothing of the
exact manner and method of it. With all my omissions, however,
there was enough to startle and amaze them.
"It is a romance!" cried Mrs. Forrester. "An injured lady,
half a million in treasure, a black cannibal, and a wooden-legged
ruffian. They take the place of the conventional dragon or wicked
earl."
"And two knight-errants to the rescue," added Miss Morstan
with a bright glance at me.
"Why, Mary, your fortune depends upon the issue of this
search. I don't think that you are nearly excited enough. Just
imagine what it must be to be so rich and to have the world at
your feet!"
It sent a little thrill of joy to my heart to notice that she
showed no sign of elation at the prospect. On the contrary, she
gave a toss of her proud head, as though the matter were one in
which she took small interest.
"It is for Mr. Thaddeus Sholto that I am anxious," she said.
"Nothing else is of any consequence; but I think that he has
behaved most kindly and honourably throughout. It is our duty to
clear him of this dreadful and unfounded charge."
It was evening before I left Camberwell, and quite dark by the
time I reached home. My companion's book and pipe lay by his
chair, but he had disappeared. I looked about in the hope of
seeing a note, but there was none.
"I suppose that Mr. Sherlock Holmes has gone out," I said to
Mrs. Hudson as she came up to lower the blinds.
"No, sir. He has gone to his room, sir. Do you know, sir,"
sinking her voice into an impressive whisper, "I am afraid for
his health."
"Why so, Mrs. Hudson?"
"Well, he's that strange, sir. After you was gone he walked
and he walked, up and down, and up and down, until I was
weary of the sound of his footstep. Then I heard him talking to
himself and muttering, and every time the bell rang out he came
on the stairhead, with 'What is that, Mrs. Hudson?' And now he
has slammed off to his room, but I can hear him walking away
the same as ever. I hope he's not going to be ill, sir. I ventured
to say something to him about cooling medicine, but he turned
on me, sir, with such a look that I don't know how ever I got out
of the room."
"I don't think that you have any cause to be uneasy, Mrs.
Hudson," I answered. "I have seen him like this before. He has
some small matter upon his mind which makes him restless."
I tried to speak lightly to our worthy landlady, but I was
myself somewhat uneasy when through the long night I still from
time to time heard the dull sound of his tread, and knew how his
keen spirit was chafing against this involuntary inaction.
At breakfast-time he looked worn and haggard, with a little
fleck of feverish colour upon either cheek.
"You are knocking yourself up, old man," I remarked. "I
heard you marching about in the night."
"No, I could not sleep," he answered. "This infernal prob-
lem is consuming me. It is too much to be balked by so petty an
obstacle, when all else had been overcome. I know the men, the
launch, everything; and yet I can get no news. I have set other
agencies at work and used every means at my disposal. The
whole river has been searched on either side, but there is no
news, nor has Mrs. Smith heard of her husband. I shall come to
the conclusion soon that they have scuttled the craft. But there
are objections to that."
"Or that Mrs. Smith has put us on a wrong scent."
"No, I think that may be dismissed. I had inquiries made, and
there is a launch of that description."
"Could it have gone up the river?"
"I have considered that possibility, too, and there is a search-
party who will work up as far as Richmond. If no news comes
to-day I shall start off myself tomorrow and go for the men
rather than the boat. But surely, surely, we shall hear something."
We did not, however. Not a word came to us either from
Wiggins or from the other agencies. There were articles in most
of the papers upon the Norwood tragedy. They all appeared to be
rather hostile to the unfortunate Thaddeus Sholto. No fresh
details were to be found, however, in any of them, save that an
inquest was to be held upon the following day. I walked over to
Camberwell in the evening to report our ill-success to the ladies,
and on my return I found Holmes dejected and somewhat mo-
rose. He would hardly reply to my questions and busied himself
all the evening in an abstruse chemical analysis which involved
much heating of retorts and distilling of vapours, ending at last
in a smell which fairly drove me out of the apartment. Up to the
small hours of the morning I could hear the clinking of his
test-tubes which told me that he was still engaged in his mal-
odorous experiment.
In the early dawn I woke with a start and was surprised to find
him standing by my bedside, clad in a rude sailor dress with a
peajacket and a coarse red scarf round his neck.
"I am off down the river, Watson," said he. "I have been
turning it over in my mind, and I can see only one way out of it.
It is worth trying, at all events."
"Surely I can come with you, then?" said I.
"No; you can be much more useful if you will remain here as
my representative. I am loath to go, for it is quite on the cards
that some message may come during the day, though Wiggins
was despondent about it last night. I want you to open all notes
and telegrams, and to act on your own judgment if any news
should come. Can I rely upon you?"
"Most certainly."
"I am afraid that you will not be able to wire to me, for I can
hardly tell yet where I may find myself. If I am in luck,
however, I may not be gone so very long. I shall have news of
some sort or other before I get back."
I had heard nothing of him by breakfast time. On opening the
Standard, however, I found that there was a fresh allusion to the
business.

With reference to the Upper Norwood tragedy [it remarked]
we have reason to believe that the matter promises to be
even more complex and mysterious than was originally
supposed. Fresh evidence has shown that it is quite impossi-
ble that Mr. Thaddeus Sholto could have been in any way
concerned in the matter. He and the housekeeper, Mrs.
Bernstone, were both released yesterday evening. It is be-
lieved, however, that the police have a clue as to the real
culprits, and that it is being prosecuted by Mr. Athelney
Jones, of Scotland Yard, with all his well-known energy
and sagacity. Further arrests may be expected at any
moment.

"That is satisfactory so far as it goes," thought I. "Friend
Sholto is safe, at any rate. I wonder what the fresh clue may be
though it seems to be a stereotyped form whenever the police
have made a blunder."
I tossed the paper down upon the table, but at that moment my
eye caught an advertisement in the agony column. It ran in this
way:

LOST -- Whereas Mordecai Smith, boatman, and his son Jim
left Smith's Wharf at or about three o'clock last Tuesday
morning in the steam launch Aurora, black with two red
stripes, funnel black with a white band, the sum of five
pounds will be paid to anyone who can give information to
Mrs. Smith, at Smith's Wharf, or at 22lB, Baker Street, as
to the whereabouts of the said Mordecai Smith and the
launch Aurora.

This was clearly Holmes's doing. The Baker Street address
was enough to prove that. It struck me as rather ingenious
because it might be read by the fugitives without their seeing in
it more than the natural anxiety of a wife for her missing
husband.
It was a long day. Every time that a knock came to the door or
a sharp step passed in the street, I imagined that it was either
Holmes returning or an answer to his advertisement. I tried to
read, but my thoughts would wander off to our strange quest and
to the ill-assorted and villainous pair whom we were pursuing.
Could there be, I wondered, some radical flaw in my compan-
ion's reasoning? Might he not be suffering from some huge
self-deception? Was it not possible that his nimble and specula-
tive mind had built up this wild theory upon faulty premises? I
had never known him to be wrong, and yet the keenest reasoner
may occasionally be deceived. He was likely, I thought, to fall
into error through the over-refinement of his logic -- his prefer-
ence for a subtle and bizarre explanation when a plainer and
more commonplace one lay ready to his hand. Yet, on the other
hand, I had myself seen the evidence, and I had heard the
reasons for his deductions. When I looked back on the long
chain of curious circumstances, many of them trivial in them-
selves but all tending in the same direction, I could not disguise
from myself that even if Holmes's explanation were incorrect the
true theory must be equally outre and startling.
At three o'clock on the afternoon there was a loud peal at the
bell, an authoritative voice in the hall, and, to my surprise, no
less a person than Mr. Athelney Jones was shown up to me.
Very different was he, however, from the brusque and masterful
professor of common sense who had taken over the case so
confidently at Upper Norwood. His expression was downcast,
and his bearing meek and even apologetic.
"Good-day, sir; good-day," said he. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes is
out, I understand."
"Yes, and I cannot be sure when he will be back. But
perhaps you would care to wait. Take that chair and try one of
these cigars."
"Thank you; I don't mind if I do," said he, mopping his face
with a red bandanna handkerchief.
"And a whisky and soda?"
"Well, half a glass. It is very hot for the time of year, and I
have had a good deal to worry and try me. You know my theory
about this Norwood case?"
"I remember that you expressed one."
"Well, I have been obliged to reconsider it. I had my net
drawn tightly round Mr. Sholto, sir, when pop he went through a
hole in the middle of it. He was able to prove an alibi which
could not be shaken. From the time that he left his brother's
room he was never out of sight of someone or other. So it could
not be he who climbed over roofs and through trapdoors. It's a
very dark case, and my professional credit is at stake. I should
be very glad of a little assistance."
"We all need help sometimes," said I.
"Your friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, is a wonderful man,
sir," said he in a husky and confidential voice. "He's a man
who is not to be beat. I have known that young man go into a
good many cases, but I never saw the case yet that he could not
throw a light upon. He is irregular in his methods and a little
quick perhaps in jumping at theories, but, on the whole, I think
he would have made a most promising officer, and I don't care
who knows it. I have had a wire from him this morning, by
which I understand that he has got some clue to this Sholto
business. Here is his message."
He took the telegram out of his pocket and handed it to me. It
was dated from Poplar at twelve o'clock.

Go to Baker Street at once [it said]. If I have not returned,
wait for me. I am close on the track of the Sholto gang.
You can come with us to-night if you want to be in at the
finish.

"This sounds well. He has evidently picked up the scent
again," said I.
"Ah, then he has been at fault too," exclaimed Jones with
evident satisfaction. "Even the best of us are thrown off some-
times. Of course this may prove to be a false alarm but it is my
duty as an officer of the law to allow no chance to slip. But there
is someone at the door. Perhaps this is he."
A heavy step was heard ascending the stair, with a great
wheezing and rattling as from a man who was sorely put to it for
breath. Once or twice he stopped, as though the climb were too
much for him, but at last he made his way to our door and
entered. His appearance corresponded to the sounds which we
had heard. He was an aged man, clad in seafaring garb, with an
old pea-jacket buttoned up to his throat. His back was bowed
his knees were shaky, and his breathing was painfully asthmatic.
As he leaned upon a thick oaken cudgel his shoulders heaved in
the effort to draw the air into his lungs. He had a coloured scarf
round his chin, and I could see little of his face save a pair of
keen dark eyes, overhung by bushy white brows and long gray
side-whiskers. Altogether he gave me the impression of a re-
spectable master mariner who had fallen into years and poverty.
"What is it, my man?" I asked.
He looked about him in the slow methodical fashion of old
age.
"Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes here?" said he.
"No; but I am acting for him. You can tell me any message
you have for him."
"It was to him himself I was to tell it," said he.
"But I tell you that I am acting for him. Was it about
Mordecai Smith's boat?''
"Yes. I knows well where it is. An' I knows where the men
he is after are. An' I knows where the treasure is. I knows all
about it."
"Then tell me, and I shall let him know."
"It was to him I was to tell it," he repeated with the petulant
obstinacy of a very old man.
"Well, you must wait for him."
"No, no; I ain't goin' to lose a whole day to please no one. If
Mr. Holmes ain't here, then Mr. Holmes must find it all out for
himself. I don't care about the look of either of you, and I won't
tell a word."
He shuffled towards the door, but Athelney Jones got in front
of him.
"Wait a bit, my friend," said he. "You have important
information, and you must not walk off. We shall keep you,
whether you like or not, until our friend returns."
The old man made a little run towards the door, but, as
Athelney Jones put his broad back up against it, he recognized
the uselessness of resistance.
"Pretty sort o' treatment this!" he cried, stamping his stick.
"I come here to see a gentleman, and you two, who I never saw
in my life, seize me and treat me in this fashion!"
"You will be none the worse," I said. "We shall recompense
you for the loss of your time. Sit over here on the sofa, and you
will not have long to wait."
He came across sullenly enough and seated himself with his
face resting on his hands. Jones and I resumed our cigars and our
talk. Suddenly, however, Holmes's voice broke in upon us.
"I think that you might offer me a cigar too," he said.
We both started in our chairs. There was Holmes sitting close
to us with an air of quiet amusement.
"Holmes!" I exclaimed. "You here! But where is the old
man?"
"Here is the old man," said he, holding out a heap of white
hair. "Here he is -- wig, whiskers, eyebrows, and all. I thought
my disguise was pretty good, but I hardly expected that it would
stand that test."
"Ah, you rogue!" cried Jones, highly delighted. "You would
have made an actor and a rare one. You had the proper work-
house cough, and those weak legs of yours are worth ten pound a
week. I thought I knew the glint of your eye, though. You didn't
get away from us so easily, you see."
"I have been working in that get-up all day," said he, lighting
his cigar. "You see, a good many of the criminal classes begin
to know me -- especially since our friend here took to publishing
some of my cases: so I can only go on the war-path under some
simple disguise like this. You got my wire?"
"Yes; that was what brought me here."
"How has your case prospered?"
"It has all come to nothing. I have had to release two of my
prisoners, and there is no evidence against the other two."
"Never mind. We shall give you two others in the place of
them. But you must put yourself under my orders. You are
welcome to all the official credit, but you must act on the lines
that I point out. Is that agreed?"
"Entirely, if you will help me to the men."
"Well, then, in the first place I shall want, a fast police-
boat -- a steam launch -- to be at the Westminster Stairs at seven
o'clock."
"That is easily managed. There is always one about there, but
I can step across the road and telephone to make sure."
"Then I shall want two staunch men in case of resistance."
"There will be two or three in the boat. What else?"
"When we secure the men we shall get the treasure. I think
that it would be a pleasure to my friend here to take the box
round to the young lady to whom half of it rightfully belongs.
Let her be the first to open it. Eh, Watson?"
"It would be a great pleasure to me."
"Rather an irregular proceeding," said Jones, shaking his
head. "However, the whole thing is irregular, and I suppose we
must wink at it. The treasure must afterwards be handed over to
the authorities until after the official investigation."
"Certainly. That is easily managed. One other point. I should
much like to have a few details about this matter from the lips of
Jonathan Small himself. You know I like to work the details of
my cases out. There is no objection to my having an unofficial
interview with him, either here in my rooms or elsewhere, as
long as he is efficiently guarded?"
"Well, you are master of the situation. I have had no proof
yet of the existence of this Jonathan Small. However, if you can
catch him, I don't see how I can refuse you an interview with
him."
"That is understood, then?"
"Perfectly. Is there anything else?"
"Only that I insist upon your dining with us. It will be ready
in half an hour. I have oysters and a brace of grouse, with
something a little choice in white wines. -- Watson, you have
never yet recognized my merits as a housekeeper."