The Sign of the Four Page 4

  Chapter IV

  The Story of the Bald-Headed Man

  We followed the Indian down a sordid and common passage, ill lit andworse furnished, until he came to a door upon the right, which he threwopen. A blaze of yellow light streamed out upon us, and in the centreof the glare there stood a small man with a very high head, a bristleof red hair all round the fringe of it, and a bald, shining scalp whichshot out from among it like a mountain-peak from fir-trees. He writhedhis hands together as he stood, and his features were in a perpetualjerk, now smiling, now scowling, but never for an instant in repose.Nature had given him a pendulous lip, and a too visible line of yellowand irregular teeth, which he strove feebly to conceal by constantlypassing his hand over the lower part of his face. In spite of hisobtrusive baldness, he gave the impression of youth. In point of facthe had just turned his thirtieth year.

  "Your servant, Miss Morstan," he kept repeating, in a thin, high voice."Your servant, gentlemen. Pray step into my little sanctum. A smallplace, miss, but furnished to my own liking. An oasis of art in thehowling desert of South London."

  We were all astonished by the appearance of the apartment into which heinvited us. In that sorry house it looked as out of place as a diamondof the first water in a setting of brass. The richest and glossiest ofcurtains and tapestries draped the walls, looped back here and there toexpose some richly-mounted painting or Oriental vase. The carpet wasof amber-and-black, so soft and so thick that the foot sank pleasantlyinto it, as into a bed of moss. Two great tiger-skins thrown athwartit increased the suggestion of Eastern luxury, as did a huge hookahwhich stood upon a mat in the corner. A lamp in the fashion of asilver dove was hung from an almost invisible golden wire in the centreof the room. As it burned it filled the air with a subtle and aromaticodor.

  "Mr. Thaddeus Sholto," said the little man, still jerking and smiling."That is my name. You are Miss Morstan, of course. And thesegentlemen--"

  "This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and this is Dr. Watson."

  "A doctor, eh?" cried he, much excited. "Have you your stethoscope?Might I ask you--would you have the kindness? I have grave doubts asto my mitral valve, if you would be so very good. The aortic I mayrely upon, but I should value your opinion upon the mitral."

  I listened to his heart, as requested, but was unable to find anythingamiss, save indeed that he was in an ecstasy of fear, for he shiveredfrom head to foot. "It appears to be normal," I said. "You have nocause for uneasiness."

  "You will excuse my anxiety, Miss Morstan," he remarked, airily. "I ama great sufferer, and I have long had suspicions as to that valve. Iam delighted to hear that they are unwarranted. Had your father, MissMorstan, refrained from throwing a strain upon his heart, he might havebeen alive now."

  I could have struck the man across the face, so hot was I at thiscallous and off-hand reference to so delicate a matter. Miss Morstansat down, and her face grew white to the lips. "I knew in my heartthat he was dead," said she.

  "I can give you every information," said he, "and, what is more, I cando you justice; and I will, too, whatever Brother Bartholomew may say.I am so glad to have your friends here, not only as an escort to you,but also as witnesses to what I am about to do and say. The three ofus can show a bold front to Brother Bartholomew. But let us have nooutsiders,--no police or officials. We can settle everythingsatisfactorily among ourselves, without any interference. Nothingwould annoy Brother Bartholomew more than any publicity." He sat downupon a low settee and blinked at us inquiringly with his weak, wateryblue eyes.

  "For my part," said Holmes, "whatever you may choose to say will go nofurther."

  I nodded to show my agreement.

  "That is well! That is well!" said he. "May I offer you a glass ofChianti, Miss Morstan? Or of Tokay? I keep no other wines. Shall Iopen a flask? No? Well, then, I trust that you have no objection totobacco-smoke, to the mild balsamic odor of the Eastern tobacco. I ama little nervous, and I find my hookah an invaluable sedative." Heapplied a taper to the great bowl, and the smoke bubbled merrilythrough the rose-water. We sat all three in a semicircle, with ourheads advanced, and our chins upon our hands, while the strange, jerkylittle fellow, with his high, shining head, puffed uneasily in thecentre.

  "When I first determined to make this communication to you," said he,"I might have given you my address, but I feared that you mightdisregard my request and bring unpleasant people with you. I took theliberty, therefore, of making an appointment in such a way that my manWilliams might be able to see you first. I have complete confidence inhis discretion, and he had orders, if he were dissatisfied, to proceedno further in the matter. You will excuse these precautions, but I ama man of somewhat retiring, and I might even say refined, tastes, andthere is nothing more unaesthetic than a policeman. I have a naturalshrinking from all forms of rough materialism. I seldom come in contactwith the rough crowd. I live, as you see, with some little atmosphereof elegance around me. I may call myself a patron of the arts. It ismy weakness. The landscape is a genuine Corot, and, though aconnoisseur might perhaps throw a doubt upon that Salvator Rosa, therecannot be the least question about the Bouguereau. I am partial to themodern French school."

  "You will excuse me, Mr. Sholto," said Miss Morstan, "but I am here atyour request to learn something which you desire to tell me. It isvery late, and I should desire the interview to be as short aspossible."

  "At the best it must take some time," he answered; "for we shallcertainly have to go to Norwood and see Brother Bartholomew. We shallall go and try if we can get the better of Brother Bartholomew. He isvery angry with me for taking the course which has seemed right to me.I had quite high words with him last night. You cannot imagine what aterrible fellow he is when he is angry."

  "If we are to go to Norwood it would perhaps be as well to start atonce," I ventured to remark.

  He laughed until his ears were quite red. "That would hardly do," hecried. "I don't know what he would say if I brought you in that suddenway. No, I must prepare you by showing you how we all stand to eachother. In the first place, I must tell you that there are severalpoints in the story of which I am myself ignorant. I can only lay thefacts before you as far as I know them myself.

  "My father was, as you may have guessed, Major John Sholto, once of theIndian army. He retired some eleven years ago, and came to live atPondicherry Lodge in Upper Norwood. He had prospered in India, andbrought back with him a considerable sum of money, a large collectionof valuable curiosities, and a staff of native servants. With theseadvantages he bought himself a house, and lived in great luxury. Mytwin-brother Bartholomew and I were the only children.

  "I very well remember the sensation which was caused by thedisappearance of Captain Morstan. We read the details in the papers,and, knowing that he had been a friend of our father's, we discussedthe case freely in his presence. He used to join in our speculationsas to what could have happened. Never for an instant did we suspectthat he had the whole secret hidden in his own breast,--that of all menhe alone knew the fate of Arthur Morstan.

  "We did know, however, that some mystery--some positivedanger--overhung our father. He was very fearful of going out alone,and he always employed two prize-fighters to act as porters atPondicherry Lodge. Williams, who drove you to-night, was one of them.He was once light-weight champion of England. Our father would nevertell us what it was he feared, but he had a most marked aversion to menwith wooden legs. On one occasion he actually fired his revolver at awooden-legged man, who proved to be a harmless tradesman canvassing fororders. We had to pay a large sum to hush the matter up. My brotherand I used to think this a mere whim of my father's, but events havesince led us to change our opinion.

  "Early in 1882 my father received a letter from India which was a greatshock to him. He nearly fainted at the breakfast-table when he openedit, and from that day he sickened to his death. What was in the letterwe could never discover, but I could see as he held it that it wasshort and w
ritten in a scrawling hand. He had suffered for years froman enlarged spleen, but he now became rapidly worse, and towards theend of April we were informed that he was beyond all hope, and that hewished to make a last communication to us.

  "When we entered his room he was propped up with pillows and breathingheavily. He besought us to lock the door and to come upon either sideof the bed. Then, grasping our hands, he made a remarkable statementto us, in a voice which was broken as much by emotion as by pain. Ishall try and give it to you in his own very words.

  "'I have only one thing,' he said, 'which weighs upon my mind at thissupreme moment. It is my treatment of poor Morstan's orphan. Thecursed greed which has been my besetting sin through life has withheldfrom her the treasure, half at least of which should have been hers.And yet I have made no use of it myself,--so blind and foolish a thingis avarice. The mere feeling of possession has been so dear to me thatI could not bear to share it with another. See that chaplet dippedwith pearls beside the quinine-bottle. Even that I could not bear topart with, although I had got it out with the design of sending it toher. You, my sons, will give her a fair share of the Agra treasure. Butsend her nothing--not even the chaplet--until I am gone. After all, menhave been as bad as this and have recovered.

  "'I will tell you how Morstan died,' he continued. 'He had sufferedfor years from a weak heart, but he concealed it from every one. Ialone knew it. When in India, he and I, through a remarkable chain ofcircumstances, came into possession of a considerable treasure. Ibrought it over to England, and on the night of Morstan's arrival hecame straight over here to claim his share. He walked over from thestation, and was admitted by my faithful Lal Chowdar, who is now dead.Morstan and I had a difference of opinion as to the division of thetreasure, and we came to heated words. Morstan had sprung out of hischair in a paroxysm of anger, when he suddenly pressed his hand to hisside, his face turned a dusky hue, and he fell backwards, cutting hishead against the corner of the treasure-chest. When I stooped over himI found, to my horror, that he was dead.

  "'For a long time I sat half distracted, wondering what I should do.My first impulse was, of course, to call for assistance; but I couldnot but recognize that there was every chance that I would be accusedof his murder. His death at the moment of a quarrel, and the gash inhis head, would be black against me. Again, an official inquiry couldnot be made without bringing out some facts about the treasure, which Iwas particularly anxious to keep secret. He had told me that no soulupon earth knew where he had gone. There seemed to be no necessity whyany soul ever should know.

  "'I was still pondering over the matter, when, looking up, I saw myservant, Lal Chowdar, in the doorway. He stole in and bolted the doorbehind him. "Do not fear, Sahib," he said. "No one need know that youhave killed him. Let us hide him away, and who is the wiser?" "I didnot kill him," said I. Lal Chowdar shook his head and smiled. "Iheard it all, Sahib," said he. "I heard you quarrel, and I heard theblow. But my lips are sealed. All are asleep in the house. Let us puthim away together." That was enough to decide me. If my own servantcould not believe my innocence, how could I hope to make it good beforetwelve foolish tradesmen in a jury-box? Lal Chowdar and I disposed ofthe body that night, and within a few days the London papers were fullof the mysterious disappearance of Captain Morstan. You will see fromwhat I say that I can hardly be blamed in the matter. My fault lies inthe fact that we concealed not only the body, but also the treasure,and that I have clung to Morstan's share as well as to my own. I wishyou, therefore, to make restitution. Put your ears down to my mouth.The treasure is hidden in--' At this instant a horrible change cameover his expression; his eyes stared wildly, his jaw dropped, and heyelled, in a voice which I can never forget, 'Keep him out! ForChrist's sake keep him out!' We both stared round at the window behindus upon which his gaze was fixed. A face was looking in at us out ofthe darkness. We could see the whitening of the nose where it waspressed against the glass. It was a bearded, hairy face, with wildcruel eyes and an expression of concentrated malevolence. My brotherand I rushed towards the window, but the man was gone. When wereturned to my father his head had dropped and his pulse had ceased tobeat.

  "We searched the garden that night, but found no sign of the intruder,save that just under the window a single footmark was visible in theflower-bed. But for that one trace, we might have thought that ourimaginations had conjured up that wild, fierce face. We soon, however,had another and a more striking proof that there were secret agenciesat work all round us. The window of my father's room was found open inthe morning, his cupboards and boxes had been rifled, and upon hischest was fixed a torn piece of paper, with the words 'The sign of thefour' scrawled across it. What the phrase meant, or who our secretvisitor may have been, we never knew. As far as we can judge, none ofmy father's property had been actually stolen, though everything hadbeen turned out. My brother and I naturally associated this peculiarincident with the fear which haunted my father during his life; but itis still a complete mystery to us."

  The little man stopped to relight his hookah and puffed thoughtfullyfor a few moments. We had all sat absorbed, listening to hisextraordinary narrative. At the short account of her father's deathMiss Morstan had turned deadly white, and for a moment I feared thatshe was about to faint. She rallied however, on drinking a glass ofwater which I quietly poured out for her from a Venetian carafe uponthe side-table. Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair with anabstracted expression and the lids drawn low over his glittering eyes.As I glanced at him I could not but think how on that very day he hadcomplained bitterly of the commonplaceness of life. Here at least wasa problem which would tax his sagacity to the utmost. Mr. ThaddeusSholto looked from one to the other of us with an obvious pride at theeffect which his story had produced, and then continued between thepuffs of his overgrown pipe.

  "My brother and I," said he, "were, as you may imagine, much excited asto the treasure which my father had spoken of. For weeks and formonths we dug and delved in every part of the garden, withoutdiscovering its whereabouts. It was maddening to think that thehiding-place was on his very lips at the moment that he died. We couldjudge the splendor of the missing riches by the chaplet which he hadtaken out. Over this chaplet my brother Bartholomew and I had somelittle discussion. The pearls were evidently of great value, and hewas averse to part with them, for, between friends, my brother washimself a little inclined to my father's fault. He thought, too, thatif we parted with the chaplet it might give rise to gossip and finallybring us into trouble. It was all that I could do to persuade him tolet me find out Miss Morstan's address and send her a detached pearl atfixed intervals, so that at least she might never feel destitute."

  "It was a kindly thought," said our companion, earnestly. "It wasextremely good of you."

  The little man waved his hand deprecatingly. "We were your trustees,"he said. "That was the view which I took of it, though BrotherBartholomew could not altogether see it in that light. We had plentyof money ourselves. I desired no more. Besides, it would have beensuch bad taste to have treated a young lady in so scurvy a fashion. 'Lemauvais gout mene au crime.' The French have a very neat way ofputting these things. Our difference of opinion on this subject went sofar that I thought it best to set up rooms for myself: so I leftPondicherry Lodge, taking the old khitmutgar and Williams with me.Yesterday, however, I learn that an event of extreme importance hasoccurred. The treasure has been discovered. I instantly communicatedwith Miss Morstan, and it only remains for us to drive out to Norwoodand demand our share. I explained my views last night to BrotherBartholomew: so we shall be expected, if not welcome, visitors."

  Mr. Thaddeus Sholto ceased, and sat twitching on his luxurious settee.We all remained silent, with our thoughts upon the new developmentwhich the mysterious business had taken. Holmes was the first tospring to his feet.

  "You have done well, sir, from first to last," said he. "It ispossible that we may be able to make you some small return
by throwingsome light upon that which is still dark to you. But, as Miss Morstanremarked just now, it is late, and we had best put the matter throughwithout delay."

  Our new acquaintance very deliberately coiled up the tube of hishookah, and produced from behind a curtain a very long befroggedtopcoat with Astrakhan collar and cuffs. This he buttoned tightly up,in spite of the extreme closeness of the night, and finished his attireby putting on a rabbit-skin cap with hanging lappets which covered theears, so that no part of him was visible save his mobile and peakyface. "My health is somewhat fragile," he remarked, as he led the waydown the passage. "I am compelled to be a valetudinarian."

  Our cab was awaiting us outside, and our programme was evidentlyprearranged, for the driver started off at once at a rapid pace.Thaddeus Sholto talked incessantly, in a voice which rose high abovethe rattle of the wheels.

  "Bartholomew is a clever fellow," said he. "How do you think he foundout where the treasure was? He had come to the conclusion that it wassomewhere indoors: so he worked out all the cubic space of the house,and made measurements everywhere, so that not one inch should beunaccounted for. Among other things, he found that the height of thebuilding was seventy-four feet, but on adding together the heights ofall the separate rooms, and making every allowance for the spacebetween, which he ascertained by borings, he could not bring the totalto more than seventy feet. There were four feet unaccounted for. Thesecould only be at the top of the building. He knocked a hole,therefore, in the lath-and-plaster ceiling of the highest room, andthere, sure enough, he came upon another little garret above it, whichhad been sealed up and was known to no one. In the centre stood thetreasure-chest, resting upon two rafters. He lowered it through thehole, and there it lies. He computes the value of the jewels at notless than half a million sterling."

  At the mention of this gigantic sum we all stared at one anotheropen-eyed. Miss Morstan, could we secure her rights, would change froma needy governess to the richest heiress in England. Surely it was theplace of a loyal friend to rejoice at such news; yet I am ashamed tosay that selfishness took me by the soul, and that my heart turned asheavy as lead within me. I stammered out some few halting words ofcongratulation, and then sat downcast, with my head drooped, deaf tothe babble of our new acquaintance. He was clearly a confirmedhypochondriac, and I was dreamily conscious that he was pouring forthinterminable trains of symptoms, and imploring information as to thecomposition and action of innumerable quack nostrums, some of which hebore about in a leather case in his pocket. I trust that he may notremember any of the answers which I gave him that night. Holmesdeclares that he overheard me caution him against the great danger oftaking more than two drops of castor oil, while I recommendedstrychnine in large doses as a sedative. However that may be, I wascertainly relieved when our cab pulled up with a jerk and the coachmansprang down to open the door.

  "This, Miss Morstan, is Pondicherry Lodge," said Mr. Thaddeus Sholto,as he handed her out.