Chapter 3 of The Sign of the four by Sir, Arthur Conan Doyle.
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Chapter 3, in quest of a solution.
It was 5:30 before Holmes returned.
He was bright eager and in excellent Spirits, a mood which
in his case, alternated with fits of the blackest depression.
There is no great mystery in this matter.
He said taking the cup of tea, which I had poured out for him,
the facts appear to admit of only one explanation what you
sold it already. Well, that would be too much to
say, I have discovered a suggestive fact.
That is all it is however, very suggestive, the details are
still to be added. I have just found on Consulting
the back files of the times that major Photo of upper Norwood
later. The 34th?
Bombay inventory died upon the 28th of April 1882.
I may be very obtuse homes but I fail to see what this suggests
know, you surprise me. Look at it in this way, then
Captain morstan disappears. The only person in London, whom
he could have visited his major sholto major sholto denies
having heard that he was in London for years later, sholto
dies, within a week of his death, captain morstan's
daughter receives a valuable present.
Which is repeated from year to year.
And now, culminates in a letter, which describes her, as a
wronged woman, what wrong can it refer to accept this deprivation
of her? Father, and why should the
presence begin immediately after sholto's death?
Unless it is, that sholto's are knows something of the mystery
and desires to make compensation.
Have you any alternative Theory, which will meet the facts?
But what a strange compensation and how strangely made why to
should him write a letter. Now, rather than six years ago,
again, the letter speaks of giving her justice or Justice.
Can she have it is too much to suppose that her father is still
alive. There is no other Injustice in
her case that, you know of there are difficulties there are
certainly difficulties said Sherlock Holmes pensively but
our expedition of tonight will Solve them all.
Ah, here is a four-wheeler and Miss morstan is inside.
Are you all ready? Then we'd better go down for it
is a little past the hour. I picked up my hat and my
heaviest stick but I observe that Holmes took his revolver
from his drawer and slipped it into his pocket.
It was clear that he thought that our night's work might be a
serious one. Miss morstan was muffled in a
dark cloak and her sensitive face was composed but pale.
She must have been more than woman if she did not feel some
uneasiness at the strange Enterprise upon which we were
embarking. Yet her self-control was
perfect. And she readily answered the few
additional questions, which Sherlock Holmes, put her.
Major sholto was a very particular friend of Papa's.
She said his letters were full of Illusions to the major.
He and papa were in command of the troops at the Andaman
Islands. So, they were thrown a great
deal together. By the way, a curious paper was
found in Papa's desk, which no one could understand.
I don't suppose that it is of the slightest importance, but I
thought you might care to see it.
So I brought it with me. It is here.
Holmes unfolded the paper carefully and smooth it out upon
his knee. He then very methodically
examined. It all over with his double
lens. It is paper of Native Indian
manufacturer. He remarked, it has at some time
been pinned to a board. The diagram upon it appears to
be a plan of part of a large building with numerous Halls,
corridors and Passages. At one point is a small cross
done in red ink. And above.
It is a 337 from left in faded pencil writing in the left hand,
corner, is a curious hieroglyphic, like, for crosses,
in a line with their arms, touching beside it is written in
very rough and coarse characters the sign of the four.
Jonathan, small Mahomet Singh, Abdullah, Khan dust Akbar.
No, I confess that. I do not see how this Bears upon
the matter. Yet.
It is evidently The document of importance.
It has been kept carefully in a pocketbook.
For the one side is as clean as the other.
It was in this pocketbook that we found it.
Preserve it carefully. Then miss morstan for it, may
prove to be of use to us. I begin to suspect that this
matter may turn out to be much deeper and more subtle than I at
First supposed. I must reconsider my ideas.
He leaned back in the cab and I could see by his drawn Brown and
his vacant eye that he was thinking intently Miss morstan.
And I chatted in an undertone about our present Expedition and
it's possible outcome. But I'll companion maintained
his impenetrable Reserve until the end of our journey.
It was a September evening and not yet 7:00, but the day had
been a dreary one and a dense. Drizzly fog, lay low upon the
great City mud-colored clouds drooped, sadly over the muddy
streets down the Strand, the lamps were, but Misty splotches
of diffused light, which through a feeble circular glimmer upon
the slimy pavement, the yellow glare from the shop.
Windows streamed out into the steamy vaporous are and through
a murky. Shh.
Ding, Radiance across the crowded thoroughfare there was
to my mind, something eerie and ghost-like in the endless
procession of faces, which flitted across these narrow bars
of light, sad faces and glad Haggard and Mary like all
humankind, they flitted from the Gloom into the light.
And so, back into the Gloom, once more, I'm not subject to
Impressions, but the dull heavy evening, with the strange.
Of business upon, which we were engaged, combine to make me
nervous and depressed. I could see from Miss morstan's
manner that she was suffering from the same feeling homes
alone could rise. Superior to pity influences.
He held his open notebook upon his knee.
And from time to time, he jotted down figures and memoranda in
the light of his pocket. Lantern at the lyceum theater,
the crowds were already thick at the side entrances in front, a
continuous stream of handsome. And four wheelers were rattling
up, discharging their Cargoes of shirt fronted men, and be shored
bit diamonded. Women would hardly reach the
third pillar, which was our Rendezvous before a small, dark
brisk man in the dress of a Coachman accosted us Are you the
parties who come with the Miss morstan?
He asked I am Miss morstan. And these two gentlemen are my
friends said she, he bent a pair of wonderfully penetrating and
questioning Eyes Upon Us. You will Excuse Me.
Miss he said with a certain dogged manner but I was to ask
you to give me your word that neither of your companions is a
police officer. I give you my word on that she
answered. He gave a shrill whistle on
which a street Arab LED across a four-wheeler and open the door.
The man who had addressed us mounted to the Box while we took
our places inside, we had hardly done, so, before the driver
whipped up his horse and we plunged away at a furious pace
through the foggy streets, the situation was a curious one.
We were driving to an unknown place on an unknown errand.
Yet, our invitation was either a complete hoax which was an
inconceivable hypothesis or else we had.
Good reason to think that important issues might hang Upon
Our Journey. Miss morstan's demeanor was as
Resolute and collected as ever. I endeavoured to cheer and amuse
her, by reminiscences of my adventures in Afghanistan.
But to tell the truth, I was myself.
So excited at our situation and so curious.
As to our destination that my stories were slightly involved
to this day. She declares that I told her one
moving anecdote as to how a musket looked into my tent at
the dead of night and how I fired a double-barreled tiger
cub at it. At first, I had some idea as to
the direction in which we were driving.
But soon well with our paste the fog and my own limited knowledge
of London. I lost my bearings and new
nothing. Save that we seem to be going a
very long way. Sherlock Holmes was never at
fault, however, and he muttered the names as the cab rattled
through squares and in and out by tortuous by streets Rochester
row. Said he now Vincent Square.
Now we come out on the Vauxhall Bridge Road.
We're making for the Surrey side.
Apparently, yes, I thought. So now we're on the bridge, you
can catch glimpses of the river. We did indeed get a fleeting
view of a stretch of the Thames with the lamps shining upon the
broad side. Water.
But Arc AB Dash tan, and was soon involved in a Labyrinth of
streets. Upon the other side.
Wordsworth Road said my companion Priory road, lock all
Lane, Stockwell Place, Robert Street, Cold Harbor Lane.
Our Quest does not appear to take us to very fashionable
regions. We had indeed reached a
questionable and forbidding neighborhood.
Long lines of dull brick houses, were only relieved by the
course. There and tawdry brilliancy of
public houses at the corner. Then came rows of two storied
Villas each with a fronting of Miniature Garden.
And then again, interminable lines of new staring, brick
buildings and monster tentacles, which the giant city was
throwing out into the country. At last, the cab Drew up at the
third house in a new Terrace. None of the other houses were
inhabited and that at which we stopped was as dark as its
neighbors, say, for a single glimmer, in the kitchen window
on our knocking, however, the door was instantly thrown open
by a Hindu servant clad in a yellow turban.
White loose-fitting clothes and a yellow sash There was
something strangely incongruous in this Oriental figure framed
in the commonplace doorway of a third-rate Suburban dwelling
house. The Sai Baba wits, you said he
and even as he spoke there came a high piping voice from some
Inner Room, show them into me kit to Maga it.
Cried show them straight into me.
End of chapter 3.