Our meal was a merry one. Holmes could talk exceedingly wellwhen he chose, and that night he did choose. He appeared to bein a state of nervous exaltation. I have never known him sobrilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects -- on miracleplays, on medieval pottery, on Stradivarius violins, on theBuddhism of Ceylon, and on the warships of the future -- handlingeach as though he had made a special study of it. His brighthumour marked the reaction from his black depression of thepreceding days. Athelney Jones proved to be a sociable soul inhis hours of relaxation and faced his dinner with the air of a bonvivant. For myself, I felt elated at the thought that we werenearing the end of our task, and I caught something of Holmes'sgaiety. None of us alluded during dinner to the cause which hadbrought us together.

When the cloth was cleared Holmes glanced at his watch andfilled up three glasses with port.

"One bumper," said he, "to the success of our little expedi-tion. And now it is high time we were off. Have you a pistolWatson?"

"I have my old service-revolver in my desk."

"You had best take it, then. It is well to be prepared. I seethat the cab is at the door. I ordered it for half-past six."

It was a little past seven before we reached the Westminsterwharf and found our launch awaiting us. Holmes eyed it critically.

"Is there anything to mark it as a police-boat?"

"Yes, that green lamp at the side."

"Then take it off."

The small change was made, we stepped on board, and theropes were cast off. Jones, Holmes, and I sat in the stern. Therewas one man at the rudder, one to tend the engines, and twoburly police-inspectors forward.

"Where to?" asked Jones.

"To the Tower. Tell them to stop opposite to Jacobson'sYard."

Our craft was evidently a very fast one. We shot past the longlines of loaded barges as though they were stationary. Holmessmiled with satisfaction as we overhauled a river steamer and lefther behind us.

"We ought to be able to catch anything on the river," he said.

"Well, hardly that. But there are not many launches to beatus."

"We shall have to catch the Aurora, and she has a name forbeing a clipper. I will tell you how the land lies, Watson. Yourecollect how annoyed I was at being baulked by so small athing?"

"Yes."

"Well, I gave my mind a thorough rest by plunging into achemical analysis. One of our greatest statesmen has said that achange of work is the best rest. So it is. When I had succeededin dissolving the hydrocarbon which I was at work at, I cameback to our problem of the Sholtos, and thought the whole matterout again. My boys had been up the river and down the riverwithout result. The launch was not at any landing-stage or wharf,nor had it returned. Yet it could hardly have been scuttled to hidetheir traces, though that always remained as a possible hypothe-sis if all else failed. I knew that this man Small had a certaindegree of low cunning, but I did not think him capable ofanything in the nature of delicate finesse. That is usually aproduct of higher education. I then reflected that since he hadcertainly been in London some time -- as we had evidence that hemaintained a continual watch over Pondicherry Lodge -- he couldhardly leave at a moment's notice, but would need some littletime, if it were only a day, to arrange his affairs. That was thebalance of probability, at any rate."

"It seems to me to be a little weak," said I; "it is moreprobable that he had arranged his affairs before ever he set outupon his expedition."

"No, I hardly think so. This lair of his would be too valuablea retreat in case of need for him to give it up until he was surethat he could do without it. But a second consideration struckme. Jonathan Small must have felt that the peculiar appearanceof his companion, however much he may have top-coated him,would give rise to gossip, and possibly be associated with thisNorwood tragedy. He was quite sharp enough to see that. Theyhad started from their headquarters under cover of darkness, andhe would wish to get back before it was broad light. Now, it waspast three o'clock, according to Mrs. Smith, when they got theboat. It would be quite bright, and people would be about in anhour or so. Therefore, I argued, they did not go very far. Theypaid Smith well to hold his tongue, reserved his launch for thefinal escape, and hurried to their lodgings with the treasure-box.In a couple of nights, when they had time to see what view thepapers took, and whether there was any suspicion, they wouldmake their way under cover of darkness to some ship at Gravesendor in the Downs, where no doubt they had already arranged forpassages to America or the Colonies."

"But the launch? They could not have taken that to theirlodgings."

"Quite so. l argued that the launch must be no great way off,in spite of its invisibility. I then put myself in the place of Smalland looked at it as a man of his capacity would. He wouldprobably consider that to send back the launch or to keep it at awharf would make pursuit easy if the police did happen to get onhis track. How, then, could he conceal the launch and yet haveher at hand when wanted? I wondered what I should do myself ifI were in his shoes. I could only think of one way of doing it. Imight hand the launch over to some boat-builder or repairer,with directions to make a trifling change in her. She would thenbe removed to his shed or yard, and so be effectually concealed,while at the same time I could have her at a few hours' notice."

"That seems simple enough."

"It is just these very simple things which are extremely liableto be overlooked. However, I determined to act on the idea. Istarted at once in this harmless seaman's rig and inquired at allthe yards down the river. I drew blank at fifteen, but at thesixteenth -- Jacobson's -- I learned that the Aurora had been handedover to them two days ago by a wooden-legged man, with sometrivial directions as to her rudder. 'There ain't naught amiss withher rudder,' said the foreman. 'There she lies, with the redstreaks.' At that moment who should come down but MordecaiSmith, the missing owner. He was rather the worse for liquor. Ishould not, of course, have known him, but he bellowed out hisname and the name of his launch. 'I want her to-night at eighto'clock,' said he -- 'eight o'clock sharp, mind, for I have twogentlemen who won't be kept waiting.' They had evidently paidhim well, for he was very flush of money, chucking shillingsabout to the men. I followed him some distance, but he subsidedinto an alehouse; so I went back to the yard, and, happening topick up one of my boys on the way, I stationed him as a sentryover the launch. He is to stand at the water's edge and wave hishandkerchief to us when they start. We shall be lying off in thestream, and it will be a strange thing if we do not take men,treasure, and all."

"You have planned it all very neatly, whether they are theright men or not," said Jones; "but if the affair were in myhands I should have had a body of police in Jacobson's Yard andarrested them when they came down."

"Which would have been never. This man Small is a prettyshrewd fellow. He would send a scout on ahead, and if anythingmade him suspicious he would lie snug for another week."

"But you might have stuck to Mordecai Smith, and so beenled to their hiding-place," said I.

"In that case I should have wasted my day. I think that it is ahundred to one against Smith knowing where they live. As longas he has liquor and good pay, why should he ask questions?They send him messages what to do. No, I thought over everypossible course, and this is the best."

While this conversation had been proceeding, we had beenshooting the long series of bridges which span the Thames. Aswe passed the City the last rays of the sun were gilding the crossupon the summit of St. Paul's. It was twilight before we reachedthe Tower.

"That is Jacobson's Yard," said Holmes, pointing to a bristleof masts and rigging on the Surrey side. "Cruise gently up anddown here under cover of this string of lighters." He took a pairof night-glasses from his pocket and gazed some time at theshore. "I see my sentry at his post," he remarked, "but no signof a handkerchief."

"Suppose we go downstream a short way and lie in wait forthem," said Jones eagerly.

We were all eager by this time, even the policemen andstokers, who had a very vague idea of what was going forward.

"We have no right to take anything for granted," Holmesanswered. "It is certainly ten to one that they go downstream,but we cannot be certain. From this point we can see theentrance of the yard, and they can hardly see us. It will be aclear night and plenty of light. We must stay where we are. Seehow the folk swarm over yonder in the gaslight."

"They are coming from work in the yard."

"Dirty-looking rascals, but I suppose every one has some littleimmortal spark concealed about him. You would not think it, tolook at them. There is no a priori probability about it. A strangeenigma is man!"

"Someone calls him a soul concealed in an animal," Isuggested.

"Winwood Reade is good upon the subject," said Holmes."He remarks that, while the individual man is an insolublepuzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty.You can, for example, never foretell what any one man will do,but you can say with precision what an average number will beup to. Individuals vary, but percentages remain constant. So saysthe statistician. But do I see a handkerchief? Surely there is awhite flutter over yonder."

"Yes, it is your boy," I cried. "I can see him plainly."

"And there is the Aurora," exclaimed Holmes, "and goinglike the devil! Full speed ahead, engineer. Make after that launchwith the yellow light. By heaven, I shall never forgive myself ifshe proves to have the heels of us!"

She had slipped unseen through the yard-entrance and passedbetween two or three small craft, so that she had fairly got herspeed up before we saw her. Now she was flying down thestream, near in to the shore, going at a tremendous rate. Joneslooked gravely at her and shook his head.

"She is very fast," he said. "I doubt if we shall catch her."

"We must catch her!" cried Holmes between his teeth. "Heapit on, stokers! Make her do all she can! If we burn the boat wemust have them!"

We were fairly after her now. The furnaces roared, and thepowerful engines whizzed and clanked like a great metallicheart. Her sharp, steep prow cut through the still river-water andsent two rolling waves to right and to left of us. With every throbof the engines we sprang and quivered like a living thing. Onegreat yellow lantern in our bows threw a long, flickering funnelof light in front of us. Right ahead a dark blur upon the watershowed where the Aurora lay, and the swirl of white foambehind her spoke of the pace at which she was going. We flashedpast barges, steamers, merchant-vessels, in and out, behind thisone and round the other. Voices hailed us out of the darkness,but still the Aurora thundered on, and still we followed closeupon her track.

"Pile it on, men, pile it on!" cried Holmes, looking downinto the engine-room, while the fierce glow from below beatupon his eager, aquiline face. "Get every pound of steam youcan."

"I think we gain a little," said Jones with his eyes on theAurora.

"I am sure of it," said I. "We shall be up with her in a veryfew minutes."

At that moment, however, as our evil fate would have it, a tugwith three barges in tow blundered in between us. It was only byputting our helm hard down that we avoided a collision, andbefore we could round them and recover our way the Aurora hadgained a good two hundred yards. She was still, however, wellin view, and the murky, uncertain twilight was settling into aclear, starlit night. Our boilers were strained to their utmost, andthe frail shell vibrated and creaked with the fierce energy whichwas driving us along. We had shot through the pool, past theWest India Docks, down the long Deptford Reach, and up againafter rounding the Isle of Dogs. The dull blur in front of usresolved itself now clearly into the dainty Aurora. Jones turnedour searchlight upon her, so that we could plainly see the figuresupon her deck. One man sat by the stern, with something blackbetween his knees, over which he stooped. Beside him lay a darkmass, which looked like a Newfoundland dog. The boy held thetiller, while against the red glare of the furnace I could see oldSmith, stripped to the waist, and shovelling coals for dear life.They may have had some doubt at first as to whether we werereally pursuing them, but now as we followed every winding andturning which they took there could no longer be any questionabout it. At Greenwich we were about three hundred pacesbehind them. At Blackwall we could not have been more thantwo hundred and fifty. I have coursed many creatures in manycountries during my checkered career, but never did sport giveme such a wild thrill as this mad, flying man-hunt down theThames. Steadily we drew in upon them, yard by yard. In thesilence of the night we could hear the panting and clanking oftheir machinery. The man in the stern still crouched upon thedeck, and his arms were moving as though he were busy, whileevery now and then he would look up and measure with a glancethe distance which still separated us. Nearer we came and nearer.Jones yelled to them to stop. We were not more than fourboat's-lengths behind them, both boats flying at a tremendouspace. It was a clear reach of the river, with Barking Level uponone side and the melancholy Plumstead Marshes upon the other.At our hail the man in the stern sprang up from the deck andshook his two clenched fists at us, cursing the while in a high,cracked voice. He was a good-sized, powerful man, and as hestood poising himself with legs astride I could see that from thethigh downward there was but a wooden stump upon the rightside. At the sound of his strident, angry cries, there was move-ment in the huddled bundle upon the deck. It straightened itselfinto a little black man -- the smallest I have ever seen -- with agreat, misshapen head and a shock of tangled, dishevelled hair.Holmes had already drawn his revolver, and I whipped out mineat the sight of this savage, distorted creature. He was wrapped insome sort of dark ulster or blanket, which left only his faceexposed, but that face was enough to give a man a sleeplessnight. Never have I seen features so deeply marked with allbestiality and cruelty. His small eyes glowed and burned with asombre light, and his thick lips were writhed back from his teeth,Which grinned and chattered at us with half animal fury.

"Fire if he raises his hand," said Holmes quietly.

We were within a boat's-length by this time, and almostwithin touch of our quarry. I can see the two of them now asthey stood, the white man with his legs far apart, shrieking outcurses, and the unhallowed dwarf with his hideous face, and hisstrong yellow teeth gnashing at us in the light of our lantern.

It was well that we had so clear a view of him. Even as welooked he plucked out from under his covering a short, roundpiece of wood, like a school-ruler, and clapped it to his lips. Ourpistols rang out together. He whirled round, threw up his armsand, with a kind of choking cough, fell sideways into the stream.I caught one glimpse of his venomous, menacing eyes amid thewhite swirl of the waters. At the same moment the wooden-legged man threw himself upon the rudder and put it hard downso that his boat made straight in for the southern bank, while weshot past her stern, only clearing her by a few feet. We wereround after her in an instant, but she was already nearly at thebank. It was a wild and desolate place, where the moon glim-mered upon a wide expanse of marsh-land, with pools of stag-nant water and beds of decaying vegetation. The launch, with adull thud, ran up upon the mud-bank, with her bow in the air andher stern flush with the water. The fugitive sprang out, but hisstump instantly sank its whole length into the sodden soil. Invain he struggled and writhed. Not one step could he possiblytake either forward or backward. He yelled in impotent rage andkicked frantically into the mud with his other foot, but hisstruggles only bored his wooden pin the deeper into the stickybank. When we brought our launch alongside he was so firmlyanchored that it was only by throwing the end of a rope over hisshoulders that we were able to haul him out and to drag him, likesome evil fish, over our side. The two Smiths, father and son,sat sullenly in their launch but came aboard meekly enough whencommanded. The Aurora herself we hauled off and made fast toour stern. A solid iron chest of Indian workmanship stood uponthe deck. This, there could be no question, was the same thathad contained the ill-omened treasure of the Sholtos. There wasno key, but it was of considerable weight, so we transferred itcarefully to our own little cabin. As we steamed slowly upstreamagain, we flashed our searchlight in every direction, but therewas no sign of the Islander. Somewhere in the dark ooze at thebottom of the Thames lie the bones of that strange visitor to ourshores.

"See here," said Holmes, pointing to the wooden hatchway."We were hardly quick enough with our pistols;" There, sureenough, just behind where we had been standing, stuck one ofthose murderous darts which we knew so well. It must havewhizzed between us at the instant we fired. Holmes smiled at itand shrugged his shoulders in his easy fashion, but I confess thatit turned me sick to think of the horrible death which had passedso close to us that night.