"What now?" I asked. "Toby has lost his character forinfallibility. "

"He acted according to his lights," said Holmes, lifting himdown from the barrel and walking him out of the timber-yard."If you consider how much creosote is carted about London inone day, it is no great wonder that our trail should have beencrossed. It is much used now, especially for the seasoning ofwood. Poor Toby is not to blame."

"We must get on the main scent again, I suppose."

"Yes. And, fortunately, we have no distance to go. Evidentlywhat puzzled the dog at the corner of Knight's Place was thatthere were two different trails running in opposite directions. Wetook the wrong one. It only remains to follow the other."

There was no difficulty about this. On leading Toby to theplace where he had committed his fault, he cast about in a widecircle and finally dashed off in a fresh direction.

"We must take care that he does not now bring us to the placewhere the creosote-barrel came from," I observed.

"I had thought of that. But you notice that he keeps on thepavement, whereas the barrel passed down the roadway. No, weare on the true scent now."

It tended down towards the riverside, running through Bel-mont Place and Prince's Street. At the end of Broad Street it ranright down to the water's edge, where there was a small woodenwharf. Toby led us to the very edge of this and there stoodwhining, looking out on the dark current beyond.

"We are out of luck," said Holmes. "They have taken to aboat-here. "

Several small punts and skiffs were lying about in the waterand on the edge of the wharf. We took Toby round to each inturn, but though he sniffed earnestly he made no sign.

Close to the rude landing-stage was a small brick house, witha wooden placard slung out through the second window. "MordecaiSmith" was printed across it in large letters, and, underneath,"Boats to hire by the hour or day." A second inscription abovethe door informed us that a steam launch was kept -- a statementwhich was confirmed by a great pile of coke upon the jetty.Sherlock Holmes looked slowly round, and his face assumed anominous expression.

"This looks bad," said he. "These fellows are sharper than Iexpected. They seem to have covered their tracks. There has, Ifear, been preconcerted management here."

He was approaching the door of the house, when it opened,and a little curly-headed lad of six came running out, followed bya stoutish, red-faced woman with a large sponge in her hand.

"You come back and be washed, Jack," she shouted. "Comeback, you young imp; for if your father comes home and findsyou like that he'll let us hear of it."

"Dear little chap!" said Holmes strategically. "What a rosy-cheeked young rascal! Now, Jack, is there anything you wouldlike?"

The youth pondered for a moment.

"I'd like a shillin'," said he.

"Nothing you would like better?"

"I'd like two shillin' better," the prodigy answered after somethought.

"Here you are, then! Catch! -- A fine child, Mrs. Smith!"

"Lor' bless you, sir, he is that, and forward. He gets a'mosttoo much for me to manage, 'specially when my man is awaydays at a time."

"Away, is he?" said Holmes in a disappointed voice. "I amsorry for that, for I wanted to speak to Mr. Smith."

"He's been away since yesterday mornin', sir, and, truth totell, I am beginnin' to feel frightened about him. But if it wasabout a boat, sir, maybe I could serve as well."

"I wanted to hire his steam launch."

"Why, bless you, sir, it is in the steam launch that he hasgone. That's what puzzles me, for I know there ain't more coalsin her than would take her to about Woolwich and back. If he'sbeen away in the barge I'd ha' thought nothin'; for many a timea job has taken him as far as Gravesend, and then if there wasmuch doin' there he might ha' stayed over. But what good is asteam launch without coals?"

"He might have bought some at a wharf down the river."

"He might, sir, but it weren't his way. Many a time I'veheard him call out at the prices they charge for a few odd bags.Besides, I don't like that wooden-legged man, wi' his ugly faceand outlandish talk. What did he want always knockin' abouthere for?"

"A wooden-legged man?" said Holmes with bland surprise.

"Yes, sir, a brown, monkey-faced chap that's called more'nonce for my old man. It was him that roused him up yesternightand, what's more, my man knew he was comin', for he hadsteam up in the launch. I tell you straight, sir, I don't feel easy inmy mind about it."

"But, my dear Mrs. Smith," said Holmes, shrugging hisshoulders, "you are frightening yourself about nothing. Howcould you possibly tell that it was the wooden-legged man whocame in the night? I don't quite understand how you can be sosure."

"His voice, sir. I knew his voice, which is kind o' thick andfoggy. He tapped at the winder -- about three it would be. 'Showa leg, matey,' says he: 'time to turn out guard.' My old manwoke up Jim -- that's my eldest -- and away they went without somuch as a word to me. I could hear the wooden leg clackin' onthe stones."

"And was this wooden-legged man alone?"

"Couldn't say, I am sure, sir. I didn't hear no one else."

"I am sorry, Mrs. Smith, for I wanted a steam launch, and Ihave heard good reports of the -- Let me see, what is her name?"

"The Aurora, sir."

"Ah! She's not that old green launch with a yellow line, verybroad in the beam?"

"No, indeed. She's as trim a little thing as any on the river.She's been fresh painted, black with two red streaks."

"Thanks. I hope that you will hear soon from Mr. Smith. I amgoing down the river, and if I should see anything of the AuroraI shall let him know that you are uneasy. A black funnel, yousay?"

"No, sir. Black with a white band."

"Ah, of course. It was the sides which were black. Good-morning, Mrs. Smith. There is a boatman here with a wherry,Watson. We shall take it and cross the river."

"The main thing with people of that sort," said Holmes as wesat in the sheets of the wherry, "is never to let them think thattheir information can be of the slightest importance to you. Ifyou do they will instantly shut up like an oyster. If you listen tothem under protest, as it were, you are very likely to get whatyou want."

"Our course now seems pretty clear," said I.

"What would you do, then?"

"I would engage a launch and go down the river on the trackof the Aurora."

"My dear fellow, it would be a colossal task. She may havetouched at any wharf on either side of the stream between hereand Greenwich. Below the bridge there is a perfect labyrinth oflanding-places for miles. It would take you days and days toexhaust them if you set about it alone."

"Employ the police, then."

"No. I shall probably call Athelney Jones in at the last mo-ment. He is not a bad fellow, and I should not like to doanything which would injure him professionally. But I have afancy for working it out myself, now that we have gone so far.""Could we advertise, then, asking for information fromwharfingers?

"Worse and worse! Our men would know that the chase washot at their heels, and they would be off out of the country. As itis, they are likely enough to leave, but as long as they think theyare perfectly safe they will be in no hurry. Jones's energy will beof use to us there, for his view of the case is sure to push itselfinto the daily press, and the runaways will think that everyone isoff on the wrong scent."

"What are we to do, then?" I asked as we landed nearMillbank Penitentiary.

"Take this hansom, drive home, have some breakfast, and getan hour's sleep. It is quite on the cards that we may be afootto-night again. Stop at a telegraph office, cabby! We will keepToby, for he may be of use to us yet."

We pulled up at the Great Peter Street Post-Office, and Holmesdispatched his wire.

"Whom do you think that is to?" he asked as we resumed ourjourney.

"I am sure I don't know."

"You remember the Baker Street division of the detectivepolice force whom I employed in the Jefferson Hope case?"

"Well," said I, laughing.

"This is just the case where they might be invaluable. If theyfail I have other resources, but I shall try them first. That wirewas to my dirty little lieutenant, Wiggins, and I expect that heand his gang will be with us before we have finished ourbreakfast."

It was between eight and nine o'clock now, and I was con-scious of a strong reaction after the successive excitements of thenight. I was limp and weary, befogged in mind and fatigued inbody. I had not the professional enthusiasm which carried mycompanion on, nor could I look at the matter as a mere abstractintellectual problem. As far as the death of Bartholomew Sholtowent, I had heard little good of him and could feel no intenseantipathy to his murderers. The treasure, however, was a differ-ent matter. That, or part of it, belonged rightfully to MissMorstan. While there was a chance of recovering it I was readyto devote my life to the one object. True, if I found it, it wouldprobably put her forever beyond my reach. Yet it would be apetty and selfish love which would be influenced by such athought as that. If Holmes could work to find the criminals, Ihad a tenfold stronger reason to urge me on to find the treasure.

A bath at Baker Street and a complete change freshened me upwonderfully. When I came down to our room I found the break-fast laid and Holmes pouring out the coffee.

"Here it is," said he, laughing and pointing to an opennewspaper. "The energetic Jones and the ubiquitous reporterhave fixed it up between them. But you have had enough of thecase. Better have your ham and eggs first."

I took the paper from him and read the short notice, Whichwas headed "Mysterious Business at Upper Norwood."

About twelve o'clock last night [said the Standard] Mr.

Bartholomew Sholto, of Pondicherry Lodge, Upper Nor-

wood, was found dead in his room under circumstances

which point to foul play. As far as we can learn, no actual

traces of violence were found upon Mr. Sholto's person, but

a valuable collection of Indian gems which the deceased

gentleman had inherited from his father has been carried

off. The discovery was first made by Mr. Sherlock Holmes

and Dr. Watson, who had called at the house with Mr.Thad-

deus Sholto, brother of the deceased. By a singular piece

of good fortune, Mr. Athelney Jones, the well-known member

of the detective police force, happened to be at the Norwood

police station and was on the ground within half an hour of

the first alarm. His trained and experienced faculties were at

once directed towards the detection of the criminals, with

the gratifying result that the brother, Thaddeus Sholto, has

already been arrested, together with the housekeeper, Mrs.

Bernstone, an Indian butler named Lal Rao, and a porter, or

gatekeeper, named McMurdo. It is quite certain that the

thief or thieves were well acquainted with the house, for

Mr. Jones's well-known technical knowledge and his powers

of minute observation have enabled him to prove conclusively

that the miscreants could not have entered by the door or by

the window but must have made their way across the roof of

the building, and so through a trapdoor into a room which

communicated with that in which the body was found. This

fact, which has been very clearly made out, proves con-

clusively that it was no mere haphazard burglary. The prompt

and energetic action of the officers of the law shows the

great advantage of the presence on such occasions of a

single vigorous and masterful mind. We cannot but think

that it supplies an argument to those who would wish to see

our detectives more decentralized, and so brought into closer

and more effective touch with the cases which it is their

duty to investigate.

"Isn't it gorgeous!" said Holmes, grinning over his coffeecup. "What do you think of it?"

"I think that we have had a close shave ourselves of beingarrested for the crime."

"So do I. I wouldn't answer for our safety now if he shouldhappen to have another of his attacks of energy."

At this moment there was a loud ring at the bell, and I couldhear Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, raising her voice in a wail ofexpostulation and dismay.

"By heavens, Holmes," I said, half rising, "I believe thatthey are really after us."

"No, it's not quite so bad as that. It is the unofficial force --the Baker Street irregulars."

As he spoke, there came a swift pattering of naked feet uponthe stairs, a clatter of high voices, and in rushed a dozen dirtyand ragged little street Arabs. There was some show of disciplineamong them, despite their tumultuous entry, for they instantlydrew up in line and stood facing us with expectant faces. One oftheir number, taller and older than the others, stood forward withan air of lounging superiority which was very funny in such adisreputable little scarecrow.

"Got your message, sir," said he, "and brought 'em on sharp.Three bob and a tanner for tickets."

"Here you are," said Holmes, producing some silver. "Infuture they can report to you, Wiggins, and you to me. I cannothave the house invaded in this way. However, it is just as wellthat you should all hear the instructions. I want to find thewhereabouts of a steam launch called the Aurora, owner MordecaiSmith, black with two red streaks, funnel black with a whiteband. She is down the river somewhere. I want one boy to be atMordecai Smith's landing-stage opposite Millbank to say if theboat comes back. You must divide it out among yourselves anddo both banks thoroughly. Let me know the moment you havenews. Is that all clear?"

"Yes, guv'nor," said Wiggins.

"The old scale of pay, and a guinea to the boy who finds theboat. Here's a day in advance. Now off you go!"

He handed them a shilling each, and away they buzzed downthe stairs, and I saw them a moment later streaming down thestreet.

"If the launch is above water they will find her," said Holmesas he rose from the table and lit his pipe. "They can go every-where, see everything, overhear everyone. I expect to hear be-fore evening that they have spotted her. In the meanwhile, wecan do nothing but await results. We cannot pick up the brokentrail until we find either the Aurora or Mr. Mordecai Smith."

"Toby could eat these scraps, I dare say. Are you going tobed, Holmes?"

"No: I am not tired. I have a curious constitution. I neverremember feeling tired by work, though idleness exhausts mecompletely. I am going to smoke and to think over this queerbusiness to which my fair client has introduced us. If ever manhad an easy task, this of ours ought to be. Wooden-legged menare not so common, but the other man must, I should think, beabsolutely unique."

"That other man again!"

"I have no wish to make a mystery of him to you, anyway.But you must have formed your own opinion. Now, do considerthe data. Diminutive footmarks, toes never fettered by boots,naked feet, stone-headed wooden mace, great agility, small poi-soned darts. What do you make of all this?"

"A savage!" I exclaimed. "Perhaps one of those Indians whowere the associates of Jonathan Small."

"Hardly that," said he. "When first I saw signs of strangeweapons I was inclined to think so, but the remarkable characterof the footmarks caused me to reconsider my views. Some of theinhabitants of the Indian Peninsula are small men, but nonecould have left such marks as that. The Hindoo proper has longand thin feet. The sandal-wearing Mohammedan has the greattoe well separated from the others because the thong is com-monly passed between. These little darts, too, could only be shotin one way. They are from a blow-pipe. Now, then, where arewe to find our savage?"

"South America," I hazarded.

He stretched his hand up and took down a bulky volume fromthe shelf.

"This is the first volume of a gazetteer which is now beingpublished. It may be looked upon as the very latest authority.What have we here?

"Andaman Islands, situated 340 miles to the north of Su-

matra, in the Bay of Bengal.

Hum! hum! What's all this? Moist climate, coral reefs, sharks,Port Blair. convict barracks, Rutland Island, cottonwoods -- Ahhere we are!

"The aborigines of the Andaman Islands may perhaps

claim the distinction of being the smallest race upon this

earth, though some anthropologists prefer the Bushmen of

Africa, the Digger Indians of America, and the Terra del

Fuegians. The average height is rather below four feet,

although many full-grown adults may be found who are

very much smaller than this. They are a fierce, morose,

and intractable people, though capable of forming most

devoted friendships when their confidence has once been

gained.

Mark that, Watson. Now, then listen to this.

"They are naturally hideous, having large, misshapen heads,

small fierce eyes, and distorted features. Their feet and

hands, however, are remarkably small. So intractable and

fierce are they, that all the efforts of the British officials

have failed to win them over in any degree. They have

always been a terror to shipwrecked crews, braining the

survivors with their stone-headed clubs or shooting them

with their poisoned arrows. These massacres are invariably

concluded by a cannibal feast.

Nice, amiable people, Watson! If this fellow had been left to hisown unaided devices, this affair might have taken an even moreghastly turn. I fancy that, even as it is, Jonathan Small wouldgive a good deal not to have employed him."

"But how came he to have so singular a companion?"

"Ah, that is more than I can tell. Since, however, we hadalready determined that Small had come from the Andamans, itis not so very wonderful that this islander should be with him.No doubt we shall know all about it in time. Look here, Watson;you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa and see if Ican put you to sleep."

He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretchedmyself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodiousair -- his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvi-sation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, hisearnest face and the rise and fall of his bow. Then I seemed to befloated peacefully away upon a soft sea of sound until I foundmyself in dreamland, with the sweet face of Mary Morstanlooking down upon me.