We followed the Indian down a sordid and common passage,ill-lit and worse furnished, until he came to a door upon theright, which he threw open. A blaze of yellow light streamed outupon us, and in the centre of the glare there stood a small manwith a very high head, a bristle of red hair all round the fringe ofit, and a bald, shining scalp which shot out from among it like amountain-peak from fir-trees. He writhed his hands together ashe stood, and his features were in a perpetual jerk -- now smiling,now scowling, but never for an instant in repose. Nature hadgiven him a pendulous lip, and a too visible line of yellow andirregular 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 offact, he 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 littlesanctum. A small place, miss, but furnished to my own liking.An oasis of art in the howling desert of South London."

We were all astonished by the appearance of the apartmentinto which he invited us. In that sorry house it looked as out ofplace as a diamond of the first water in a setting of brass. Therichest and glossiest of curtains and tapestries draped the walls,looped back here and there to expose some richly mountedpainting or Oriental vase. The carpet was of amber and black, sosoft and so thick that the foot sank pleasantly into it, as into abed of moss. Two great tiger-skins thrown athwart it increasedthe suggestion of Eastern luxury, as did a huge hookah whichstood upon a mat in the corner. A lamp in the fashion of a silverdove was hung from an almost invisible golden wire in the centreof the room. As it burned it filled the air with a subtle andaromatic odour.

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

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

"A doctor, eh?" cried he, much excited. "Have you yourstethoscope? Might I ask you -- would you have the kindness? Ihave grave doubts as to my mitral valve, if you would be so verygood. The aortic I may rely upon, but I should value youropinion upon the mitral."

I listened to his heart, as requested, but was unable to findanything amiss, save, indeed, that he was in an ecstasy of fear,for he shivered from head to foot.

"It appears to be normal," I said. "You have no cause foruneasiness."

"You will excuse my anxiety, Miss Morstan," he remarkedairily. "I am a great sufferer, and I have long had suspicions asto that valve. I am delighted to hear that they are unwarranted.Had your father, Miss Morstan, refrained from throwing a strainupon his heart, he might have been alive now."

I could have struck the man across the face, so hot was I atthis callous and offhand reference to so delicate a matter. MissMorstan sat down, and her face grew white to the lips.

"I knew in my heart that he was dead," said she.

"I can give you every information," said he; "and, what ismore, I can do you justice; and I will, too, whatever BrotherBartholomew may say. I am so glad to have your friends herenot only as an escort to you but also as witnesses to what I amabout to do and say. The three of us can show a bold front toBrother Bartholomew. But let us have no outsiders -- no police orofficials. We can settle everything satisfactorily among ourselveswithout any interference. Nothing would annoy Brother Bart-holomew more than any publicity."

He sat down upon a low settee and blinked at us inquiringly withhis weak, watery blue eyes.

"For my part," said Holmes, "whatever you may choose tosay will go no further."

I nodded to show my agreement.

"That is well! That is well" said he. "May I offer you aglass of Chianti, Miss Morstan? Or of Tokay? I keep no otherwines. Shall I open a flask? No? Well, then, I trust that you haveno objection to tobacco-smoke, to the balsamic odour of theEastern tobacco. I am a little nervous, and I find my hookah aninvaluable sedative."

He applied a taper to the great bowl, and the smoke bubbledmerrily through the rose-water. We sat all three in a semicircle,with our heads advanced and our chins upon our hands, whilethe strange, jerky little fellow, with his high, shining head,puffed uneasily in the centre.

"When I first determined to make this communication toyou," said he, "I might have given you my address; but I fearedthat you might disregard my request and bring unpleasant peoplewith you. I took the liberty, therefore, of making an appointmentin such a way that my man Williams might be able to see youfirst. I have complete confidence in his discretion, and he hadorders, if he were dissatisfied, to proceed no further in thematter. You will excuse these precautions, but I am a man ofsomewhat retiring, and I might even say refined, tastes, andthere is nothing more unaesthetic than a policeman. I have anatural shrinking from all forms of rough materialism. I seldomcome in contact with the rough crowd. I live, as you see, withsome little atmosphere of elegance around me. I may call myselfa patron of the arts. It is my weakness. The landscape is agenuine Corot, and though a connoisseur might perhaps throw adoubt upon that Salvator Rosa, there cannot be the least questionabout the Bouguereau. I am partial to the modern French school."

"You will excuse me, Mr. Sholto," said Miss Morstan, "butI am here at your request to learn something which you desire totell me. It is very late, and I should desire the interview to be asshort as possible."

"At the best it must take some time," he answered; "for weshall certainly have to go to Norwood and see Brother Barth-olomew. We shall all go and try if we can get the better ofBrother Bartholomew. He is very angry with me for taking thecourse which has seemed right to me. I had quite high wordswith him last night. You cannot imagine what a terrible fellowhe is when he is angry."

"If we are to go to Norwood, it would perhaps be as well tostart at once," I ventured to remark.

He laughed until his ears were quite red.

"That would hardly do," he cried. "I don't know what hewould say if I brought you in that sudden way. No, I mustprepare you by showing you how we all stand to each other. Inthe first place, I must tell you that there are several points in thestory of which I am myself ignorant. I can only lay the factsbefore you as far as I know them myself.

"My father was, as you may have guessed, Major JohnSholto, once of the Indian Army. He retired some eleven yearsago and came to live at Pondicherry Lodge in Upper Norwood.He had prospered in India and brought back with him a con-siderable sum of money, a large collection of valuable curiosi-ties, and a staff of native servants. With these advantages hebought himself a house, and lived in great luxury. My twin-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 thepapers, and knowing that he had been a friend of our father's wediscussed the case freely in his presence. He used to join in ourspeculations as to what could have happened. Never for aninstant did we suspect that he had the whole secret hidden in hisown breast, that of all men he alone knew the fate of ArthurMorstan.

"We did know, however, that some mystery, some positivedanger, overhung our father. He was very fearful of going outalone, and he always employed two prize-fighters to act asporters at Pondicherry Lodge. Williams, who drove you tonight,was one of them. He was once lightweight champion of En-gland. Our father would never tell us what it was he feared, buthe had a most marked aversion to men with wooden legs. Onone occasion he actually fired his revolver at a wooden-leggedman, who proved to be a harmless tradesman canvassing fororders. We had to pay a large sum to hush the matter up. Mybrother and I used to think this a mere whim of my father's, butevents have since led us to change our opinion.

"Early in 1882 my father received a letter from India whichwas a great shock to him. He nearly fainted at the breakfast-tablewhen he opened it, and from that day he sickened to his death.What was in the letter we could never discover, but I could seeas he held it that it was short and written in a scrawling hand. Hehad suffered for years from an enlarged spleen, but he nowbecame rapidly worse, and towards the end of April we wereinformed that he was beyond all hope, and that he wished tomake a last communication to us.

"When we entered his room he was propped up with pillowsand breathing heavily. He besought us to lock the door and tocome upon either side of the bed. Then grasping our hands hemade a remarkable statement to us in a voice which was brokenas much by emotion as by pain. I shall try and give it to you inhis own very words.

" 'I have only one thing,' he said, 'which weighs upon mymind at this supreme moment. It is my treatment of poor Morstan'sorphan. The cursed greed which has been my besetting sinthrough life has withheld from her the treasure, half at least ofwhich should have been hers. And yet I have made no use of itmyself, so blind and foolish a thing is avarice. The mere feelingof possession has been so dear to me that I could not bear toshare it with another. See that chaplet tipped with pearls besidethe quinine-bottle. Even that I could not bear to part with,although I had got it out with the design of sending it to her.You, my sons, will give her a fair share of the Agra treasure.But send her nothing -- not even the chaplet -- until I am gone.After all, men have been as bad as this and have recovered.

" 'I will tell you how Morstan died,' he continued. 'He hadsuffered for years from a weak heart, but he concealed it fromevery one. I alone knew it. When in India, he and I, through aremarkable chain of circumstances, came into possession of aconsiderable treasure. I brought it over to England, and on thenight of Morstan's arrival he came straight over here to claim hisshare. He walked over from the station and was admitted by myfaithful old Lal Chowdar, who is now dead. Morstan and I had adifference of opinion as to the division of the treasure, and wecame to heated words. Morstan had sprung out of his chair in aparoxysm of anger, when he suddenly pressed his hand to hisside, his face turned a dusky hue, and he fell backward, cuttinghis head against the corner of the treasure-chest. When I stoopedover him I found, to my horror, that he was dead.

" 'For a long time I sat half distracted, wondering what Ishould do. My first impulse was, of course, to call for assis-tance; but I could not but recognize that there was every chancethat I would be accused of his murder. His death at the momentof a quarrel, and the gash in his head, would be black againstme. Again, an official inquiry could not be made without bring-ing out some facts about the treasure, which I was particularlyanxious to keep secret. He had told me that no soul upon earthknew 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, Isaw my servant, Lal Chowdar, in the doorway. He stole in andbolted the door behind him. "Do not fear, sahib," he said; "noone need know that you have killed him. Let us hide him away,and who is the wiser?" "I did not kill him," said I. LalChowdar shook his head and smiled. "I heard it all, sahib," saidhe; "l heard you quarrel, and I heard the blow. But my lips aresealed. All are asleep in the house. Let us put him away to-gether." That was enough to decide me. If my own servantcould not believe my innocence, how could I hope to make itgood before twelve foolish tradesmen in a jury-box? Lal Chowdarand I disposed of the body that night, and within a few days theLondon papers were full of the mysterious disappearance ofCaptain Morstan. You will see from what I say that l can hardlybe blamed in the matter. My fault lies in the fact that weconcealed not only the body but also the treasure and that I haveclung 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;his eyes stared wildly, his jaw dropped, and he yelled in a voicewhich I can never forget, 'Keep him out! For Christ's sake keephim out!' We both stared round at the window behind us uponwhich his gaze was fixed. A face was looking in at us out of thedarkness. 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. Mybrother and I rushed towards the window, but the man was gone.When we returned to my father his head had dropped and hispulse had ceased 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 cup-boards and boxes had been rifled, and upon his chest was fixed atorn piece of paper with the words 'The sign of the four'scrawled across it. What the phrase meant or who our secretvisitor may have been, we never knew. As far as we can judge,none of my father's property had been actually stolen, thougheverything had been turned out. My brother and I naturallyassociated this peculiar incident with the fear which haunted myfather during his life, but it is still a complete mystery to us."

The little man stopped to relight his hookah and puffed thought-fully for a few moments. We had all sat absorbed, listening tohis extraordinary narrative. At the short account of her father'sdeath Miss Morstan had turned deadly white, and for a moment Ifeared 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 lidsdrawn low over his glittering eyes. As I glanced at him I couldnot but think how on that very day he had complained bitterly ofthe commonplaceness of life. Here at least was a problem whichwould tax his sagacity to the utmost. Mr. Thaddeus Sholtolooked from one to the other of us with an obvious pride at theeffect which his story had produced and then continued betweenthe puffs of his overgrown pipe.

"My brother and I," said he, "were, as you may imagine,much excited as to the treasure which my father had spoken of.For weeks and for months we dug and delved in every part of thegarden without discovering its whereabouts. It was maddening tothink that the hiding-place was on his very lips at the momentthat he died. We could judge the splendour of the missing richesby the chaplet which he had taken out. Over this chaplet mybrother Bartholomew and I had some little discussion. The pearlswere evidently of great value, and he was averse to part withthem, for, between friends, my brother was himself a littleinclined to my father's fault. He thought, too, that if we partedwith the chaplet it might give rise to gossip and finally bring usinto trouble. It was all that I could do to persuade him to let mefind 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; "itwas extremely 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 godt mene 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. Yester-day, however, I learned that an event of extreme importance hasoccurred. The treasure has been discovered. I instantly commu-nicated with Miss Morstan, and it only remains for us to driveout to Norwood and demand our share. I explained my views lastnight 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.

"You have done well, sir, from first to last," said he. "It ispossible that we may be able to make you some small return bythrowing some light upon that which is still dark to you. But, asMiss Morstan remarked just now, it is late, and we had best putthe matter through without delay."

Our new acquaintance very deliberately coiled up the tube ofhis hookah and produced from behind a curtain a very longbefrogged topcoat with astrakhan collar and cuffs. This he but-toned tightly up in spite of the extreme closeness of the night andfinished his attire by putting on a rabbit-skin cap with hanginglappets which covered the ears, so that no part of him was visiblesave his mobile and peaky face.

"My health is somewhat fragile," he remarked as he led theway down the passage. "I am compelled to be a valetudinarian."

Our cab was awaiting us outside, and our programme wasevidently prearranged, for the driver started off at once at a rapidpace. Thaddeus Sholto talked incessantly in a voice which rosehigh above the rattle of the wheels.

"Bartholomew is a clever fellow," said he. "How do youthink he found out where the treasure was? He had come to theconclusion that it was somewhere indoors, so he worked out allthe cubic space of the house and made measurements everywhereso that not one inch should be unaccounted for. Among otherthings, he found that the height of the building was seventy-fourfeet, but on adding together the heights of all the separate roomsand making every allowance for the space between, which heascertained by borings, he could not bring the total to more thanseventy feet. There were four feet unaccounted for. These couldonly be at the top of the building. He knocked a hole, therefore,in the lath and plaster ceiling of the highest room, and there, sureenough, he came upon another little garret above it, which hadbeen 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 oneanother open-eyed. Miss Morstan, could we secure her rights,would change from a needy governess to the richest heiress inEngland. Surely it was the place of a loyal friend to rejoice atsuch news, yet I am ashamed to say that selfishness took me bythe soul and that my heart turned as heavy as lead within me. Istammered out some few halting words of congratulation andthen sat downcast, with my head drooped, deaf to the babble ofour new acquaintance. He was clearly a confirmed hypochondriac,and I was dreamily conscious that he was pouring forth intermi-nable trains of symptoms, and imploring information as to thecomposition and action of innumerable quack nostrums, some ofwhich he bore about in a leather case in his pocket. I trust that hemay not remember any of the answers which I gave him thatnight. Holmes declares that he overheard me caution him againstthe great danger of taking more than two drops of castor-oil,while I recommended strychnine in large doses as a sedative.However that may be, I was certainly relieved when our cabpulled up with a jerk and the coachman sprang down to open thedoor.

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