Sherlock Holmes: Complete Novels & Stories in One Volume. Arthur Conan Doyle

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      Chapter IX.

       A Break in the Chain

       Table of Contents

      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 disappointed. 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 ourselves, 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 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, suppressing, 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 СКАЧАТЬ