“ ‘I was still pondering over the matter， when， looking up， I sawmy servant， Lal Chowdar， in the doorway. He stole in and boltedthe door behind him. “Do not fear， Sahib，” he said； “No one needknow that you have killed him. Let us hide him away， and who isthe wiser？” “I did not kill him，” said I. Lal Chowdar shook his headand smiled. “I heard it all， Sahib，” said he； “I heard you quarrel，and I heard the blow. But my lips are sealed. All are asleep in thehouse. Let us put him away together.” That was enough to decideme. If my own servant could not believe my innocence， how couldI hope to make it good before twelve foolish tradesmen in a jurybox？
Lal Chowdar and I disposed of the body that night， andwithin a few days the London papers were full of the mysteriousdisappearance of Captain Morstan. You will see from what I saythat I can hardly be blamed in the matter. My fault lies in the factthat we concealed not only the body but also the treasure and thatI have clung to Morstan’s share as well as to my own. I wish you，therefore， to make restitution. Put your ears down to my mouth.
The treasure is hidden in—’
At this instant a horrible change came over his expression； hiseyes stared wildly， his jaw dropped， and he yelled in a voice which Ican never forget， ‘Keep him out！ For Christ’s sake keep him out！’
We both stared round at the window behind us upon which hisgaze was fixed. A face was looking in at us out of the darkness.
We could see the whitening of the nose where it was pressedagainst the glass. It was a bearded， hairy face， with wild crueleyes and an expression of concentrated malevolence. My brotherand I rushed towards the window， but the man was gone. Whenwe returned to my father his head had dropped and his pulse hadceased to beat.
“We searched the garden that night but found no sign of theintruder save that just under the window a single footmark wasvisible in the flower-bed. But for that one trace， we might havethought that our imaginations had conjured up that wild， fierceface. We soon， however， had another and a more striking proofthat there were secret agencies at work all round us. The windowof my father’s room was found open in the morning， his cupboardsand boxes had been rifled， and upon his chest was fixed a tornpiece of paper with the words ‘the sign of the four’ scrawled acrossit. What the phrase meant or who our secret visitor may havebeen， we never knew. As far as we can judge， none of my father’sproperty had been actually stolen， though everything had beenturned out. My brother and I naturally associated this peculiarincident with the fear which haunted my father during his life， butit is still a complete mystery to us.”
The little man stopped to relight his hookah and puffedthoughtfully for a few moments. We had all sat absorbed， listeningto his extraordinary narrative. At the short account of her father’sdeath Miss Morstan had turned deadly white， and for a momentI feared that she was about to faint. She rallied， however， ondrinking a glass of water which I quietly poured out for her froma Venetian carafe upon the side-table. Sherlock Holmes leanedback in his chair with an abstracted expression and the lids drawnlow over his glittering eyes. As I glanced at him I could not butthink how on that very day he had complained bitterly of thecommonplaceness of life. Here at least was a problem which wouldtax his sagacity to the utmost. Mr. Thaddeus Sholto looked fromone to the other of us with an obvious pride at the effect whichhis story had produced and then continued between the puffs ofhis overgrown pipe.
“My brother and I，” said he， “were， as you may imagine， muchexcited as to the treasure which my father had spoken of. Forweeks and for months we dug and delved in every part of thegarden without discovering its whereabouts. It was maddeningto think that the hiding-place was on his very lips at the momentthat he died. We could judge the splendor of the missing riches bythe chaplet which he had taken out. Over this chaplet my brotherBartholomew and I had some little discussion. The pearls wereevidently of great value， and he was averse to part with them， for，between friends， my brother was himself a little inclined to myfather’s fault. He thought， too， that if we parted with the chapletit might give rise to gossip and finally bring us into trouble. Itwas all that I could do to persuade him to let me find out MissMorstan’s address and send her a detached pearl at fixed intervalsso 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 Itook of it， though Brother Bartholomew could not altogether seeit in that light. We had plenty of money ourselves. I desired nomore. Besides， it would have been such bad taste to have treateda young lady in so scurvy a fashion. ‘Le mauvais go.t mène aucrime.’ The French have a very neat way of putting these things.
Our difference of opinion on this subject went so far that Ithought it best to set up rooms for myself； so I left PondicherryLodge， taking the old khitmutgar and Williams with me.
Yesterday， however， I learned that an event of extreme importancehas occurred. The treasure has been discovered. I instantlycommunicated with Miss Morstan， and it only remains for us todrive out to Norwood and demand our share. I explained my viewslast night to Brother Bartholomew， so we shall be expected， if notwelcome， visitors.”
Mr. Thaddeus Sholto ceased and sat twitching on his luxurioussettee. We all remained silent， with our thoughts upon the newdevelopment which the mysterious business had taken. Holmeswas the first to spring to his feet.
