The Sign of the Four Read online

  Chapter V

  The Tragedy of Pondicherry Lodge

  It was nearly eleven o'clock when we reached this final stage of ournight's adventures. We had left the damp fog of the great city behindus, and the night was fairly fine. A warm wind blew from the westward,and heavy clouds moved slowly across the sky, with half a moon peepingoccasionally through the rifts. It was clear enough to see for somedistance, but Thaddeus Sholto took down one of the side-lamps from thecarriage to give us a better light upon our way.

  Pondicherry Lodge stood in its own grounds, and was girt round with avery high stone wall topped with broken glass. A single narrowiron-clamped door formed the only means of entrance. On this our guideknocked with a peculiar postman-like rat-tat.

  "Who is there?" cried a gruff voice from within.

  "It is I, McMurdo. You surely know my knock by this time."

  There was a grumbling sound and a clanking and jarring of keys. Thedoor swung heavily back, and a short, deep-chested man stood in theopening, with the yellow light of the lantern shining upon hisprotruded face and twinkling distrustful eyes.

  "That you, Mr. Thaddeus? But who are the others? I had no ordersabout them from the master."

  "No, McMurdo? You surprise me! I told my brother last night that Ishould bring some friends."

  "He ain't been out o' his room to-day, Mr. Thaddeus, and I have noorders. You know very well that I must stick to regulations. I can letyou in, but your friends must just stop where they are."

  This was an unexpected obstacle. Thaddeus Sholto looked about him in aperplexed and helpless manner. "This is too bad of you, McMurdo!" hesaid. "If I guarantee them, that is enough for you. There is the younglady, too. She cannot wait on the public road at this hour."

  "Very sorry, Mr. Thaddeus," said the porter, inexorably. "Folk may befriends o' yours, and yet no friends o' the master's. He pays me wellto do my duty, and my duty I'll do. I don't know none o' your friends."

  "Oh, yes you do, McMurdo," cried Sherlock Holmes, genially. "I don'tthink you can have forgotten me. Don't you remember the amateur whofought three rounds with you at Alison's rooms on the night of yourbenefit four years back?"

  "Not Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" roared the prize-fighter. "God's truth! howcould I have mistook you? If instead o' standin' there so quiet youhad just stepped up and given me that cross-hit of yours under the jaw,I'd ha' known you without a question. Ah, you're one that has wastedyour gifts, you have! You might have aimed high, if you had joined thefancy."

  "You see, Watson, if all else fails me I have still one of thescientific professions open to me," said Holmes, laughing. "Our friendwon't keep us out in the cold now, I am sure."

  "In you come, sir, in you come,--you and your friends," he answered."Very sorry, Mr. Thaddeus, but orders are very strict. Had to becertain of your friends before I let them in."

  Inside, a gravel path wound through desolate grounds to a huge clump ofa house, square and prosaic, all plunged in shadow save where amoonbeam struck one corner and glimmered in a garret window. The vastsize of the building, with its gloom and its deathly silence, struck achill to the heart. Even Thaddeus Sholto seemed ill at ease, and thelantern quivered and rattled in his hand.

  "I cannot understand it," he said. "There must be some mistake. Idistinctly told Bartholomew that we should be here, and yet there is nolight in his window. I do not know what to make of it."

  "Does he always guard the premises in this way?" asked Holmes.

  "Yes; he has followed my father's custom. He was the favorite son, youknow, and I sometimes think that my father may have told him more thanhe ever told me. That is Bartholomew's window up there where themoonshine strikes. It is quite bright, but there is no light fromwithin, I think."

  "None," said Holmes. "But I see the glint of a light in that littlewindow beside the door."

  "Ah, that is the housekeeper's room. That is where old Mrs. Bernstonesits. She can tell us all about it. But perhaps you would not mindwaiting here for a minute or two, for if we all go in together and shehas no word of our coming she may be alarmed. But hush! what is that?"

  He held up the lantern, and his hand shook until the circles of lightflickered and wavered all round us. Miss Morstan seized my wrist, andwe all stood with thumping hearts, straining our ears. From the greatblack house there sounded through the silent night the saddest and mostpitiful of sounds,--the shrill, broken whimpering of a frightened woman.

  "It is Mrs. Bernstone," said Sholto. "She is the only woman in thehouse. Wait here. I shall be back in a moment." He hurried for thedoor, and knocked in his peculiar way. We could see a tall old womanadmit him, and sway with pleasure at the very sight of him.

  "Oh, Mr. Thaddeus, sir, I am so glad you have come! I am so glad youhave come, Mr. Thaddeus, sir!" We heard her reiterated rejoicingsuntil the door was closed and her voice died away into a muffledmonotone.

  Our guide had left us the lantern. Holmes swung it slowly round, andpeered keenly at the house, and at the great rubbish-heaps whichcumbered the grounds. Miss Morstan and I stood together, and her handwas in mine. A wondrous subtle thing is love, for here were we two whohad never seen each other before that day, between whom no word or evenlook of affection had ever passed, and yet now in an hour of troubleour hands instinctively sought for each other. I have marvelled at itsince, but at the time it seemed the most natural thing that I shouldgo out to her so, and, as she has often told me, there was in her alsothe instinct to turn to me for comfort and protection. So we stoodhand in hand, like two children, and there was peace in our hearts forall the dark things that surrounded us.

  "What a strange place!" she said, looking round.

  "It looks as though all the moles in England had been let loose in it.I have seen something of the sort on the side of a hill near Ballarat,where the prospectors had been at work."

  "And from the same cause," said Holmes. "These are the traces of thetreasure-seekers. You must remember that they were six years lookingfor it. No wonder that the grounds look like a gravel-pit."

  At that moment the door of the house burst open, and Thaddeus Sholtocame running out, with his hands thrown forward and terror in his eyes.

  "There is something amiss with Bartholomew!" he cried. "I amfrightened! My nerves cannot stand it." He was, indeed, halfblubbering with fear, and his twitching feeble face peeping out fromthe great Astrakhan collar had the helpless appealing expression of aterrified child.

  "Come into the house," said Holmes, in his crisp, firm way.

  "Yes, do!" pleaded Thaddeus Sholto. "I really do not feel equal togiving directions."

  We all followed him into the housekeeper's room, which stood upon theleft-hand side of the passage. The old woman was pacing up and downwith a scared look and restless picking fingers, but the sight of MissMorstan appeared to have a soothing effect upon her.

  "God bless your sweet calm face!" she cried, with an hysterical sob."It does me good to see you. Oh, but I have been sorely tried thisday!"

  Our companion patted her thin, work-worn hand, and murmured some fewwords of kindly womanly comfort which brought the color back into theothers bloodless cheeks.

  "Master has locked himself in and will not answer me," she explained."All day I have waited to hear from him, for he often likes to bealone; but an hour ago I feared that something was amiss, so I went upand peeped through the key-hole. You must go up, Mr. Thaddeus,--youmust go up and look for yourself. I have seen Mr. Bartholomew Sholtoin joy and in sorrow for ten long years, but I never saw him with sucha face on him as that."

  Sherlock Holmes took the lamp and led the way, for Thaddeus Sholto'steeth were chattering in his head. So shaken was he that I had to passmy hand under his arm as we went up the stairs, for his knees weretrembling under him. Twice as we ascended Holmes whipped his lens outof his pocket and carefully examined marks which appeared to me to bemere shapeless smudges of dust upon the cocoa-nut matting which servedas a stair-carpet
. He walked slowly from step to step, holding thelamp, and shooting keen glances to right and left. Miss Morstan hadremained behind with the frightened housekeeper.

  The third flight of stairs ended in a straight passage of some length,with a great picture in Indian tapestry upon the right of it and threedoors upon the left. Holmes advanced along it in the same slow andmethodical way, while we kept close at his heels, with our long blackshadows streaming backwards down the corridor. The third door was thatwhich we were seeking. Holmes knocked without receiving any answer,and then tried to turn the handle and force it open. It was locked onthe inside, however, and by a broad and powerful bolt, as we could seewhen we set our lamp up against it. The key being turned, however, thehole was not entirely closed. Sherlock Holmes bent down to it, andinstantly rose again with a sharp intaking of the breath.

  "There is something devilish in this, Watson," said he, more moved thanI had ever before seen him. "What do you make of it?"

  I stooped to the hole, and recoiled in horror. Moonlight was streaminginto the room, and it was bright with a vague and shifty radiance.Looking straight at me, and suspended, as it were, in the air, for allbeneath was in shadow, there hung a face,--the very face of ourcompanion Thaddeus. There was the same high, shining head, the samecircular bristle of red hair, the same bloodless countenance. Thefeatures were set, however, in a horrible smile, a fixed and unnaturalgrin, which in that still and moonlit room was more jarring to thenerves than any scowl or contortion. So like was the face to that ofour little friend that I looked round at him to make sure that he wasindeed with us. Then I recalled to mind that he had mentioned to usthat his brother and he were twins.

  "This is terrible!" I said to Holmes. "What is to be done?"

  "The door must come down," he answered, and, springing against it, heput all his weight upon the lock. It creaked and groaned, but did notyield. Together we flung ourselves upon it once more, and this time itgave way with a sudden snap, and we found ourselves within BartholomewSholto's chamber.

  It appeared to have been fitted up as a chemical laboratory. A doubleline of glass-stoppered bottles was drawn up upon the wall opposite thedoor, and the table was littered over with Bunsen burners, test-tubes,and retorts. In the corners stood carboys of acid in wicker baskets.One of these appeared to leak or to have been broken, for a stream ofdark-colored liquid had trickled out from it, and the air was heavywith a peculiarly pungent, tar-like odor. A set of steps stood at oneside of the room, in the midst of a litter of lath and plaster, andabove them there was an opening in the ceiling large enough for a manto pass through. At the foot of the steps a long coil of rope wasthrown carelessly together.

  By the table, in a wooden arm-chair, the master of the house was seatedall in a heap, with his head sunk upon his left shoulder, and thatghastly, inscrutable smile upon his face. He was stiff and cold, andhad clearly been dead many hours. It seemed to me that not only hisfeatures but all his limbs were twisted and turned in the mostfantastic fashion. By his hand upon the table there lay a peculiarinstrument,--a brown, close-grained stick, with a stone head like ahammer, rudely lashed on with coarse twine. Beside it was a torn sheetof note-paper with some words scrawled upon it. Holmes glanced at it,and then handed it to me.

  "You see," he said, with a significant raising of the eyebrows.

  In the light of the lantern I read, with a thrill of horror, "The signof the four."

  "In God's name, what does it all mean?" I asked.

  "It means murder," said he, stooping over the dead man. "Ah, Iexpected it. Look here!" He pointed to what looked like a long, darkthorn stuck in the skin just above the ear.

  "It looks like a thorn," said I.

  "It is a thorn. You may pick it out. But be careful, for it ispoisoned."

  I took it up between my finger and thumb. It came away from the skinso readily that hardly any mark was left behind. One tiny speck ofblood showed where the puncture had been.

  "This is all an insoluble mystery to me," said I. "It grows darkerinstead of clearer."

  "On the contrary," he answered, "it clears every instant. I onlyrequire a few missing links to have an entirely connected case."

  We had almost forgotten our companion's presence since we entered thechamber. He was still standing in the door-way, the very picture ofterror, wringing his hands and moaning to himself. Suddenly, however,he broke out into a sharp, querulous cry.

  "The treasure is gone!" he said. "They have robbed him of thetreasure! There is the hole through which we lowered it. I helped himto do it! I was the last person who saw him! I left him here lastnight, and I heard him lock the door as I came down-stairs."

  "What time was that?"

  "It was ten o'clock. And now he is dead, and the police will be calledin, and I shall be suspected of having had a hand in it. Oh, yes, I amsure I shall. But you don't think so, gentlemen? Surely you don'tthink that it was I? Is it likely that I would have brought you hereif it were I? Oh, dear! oh, dear! I know that I shall go mad!" Hejerked his arms and stamped his feet in a kind of convulsive frenzy.

  "You have no reason for fear, Mr. Sholto," said Holmes, kindly, puttinghis hand upon his shoulder. "Take my advice, and drive down to thestation to report this matter to the police. Offer to assist them inevery way. We shall wait here until your return."

  The little man obeyed in a half-stupefied fashion, and we heard himstumbling down the stairs in the dark.