Detective and mystery stories; Holmes, Sherlock (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Private investigators -- England -- Fiction
“Well, the matter ended by a second meeting, at which Mahomet Singh,
Abdullah Khan, and Dost Akbar were all present. We talked the matter
over again, and at last we came to an arrangement. We were to provide
both the officers with charts of the part of the Agra fort and mark the
place in the wall where the treasure was hid. Major Sholto was to go to
India to test our story. If he found the box he was to leave it there,
to send out a small yacht provisioned for a voyage, which was to lie
off Rutland Island, and to which we were to make our way, and finally
to return to his duties. Captain Morstan was then to apply for leave of
absence, to meet us at Agra, and there we were to have a final division
of the treasure, he taking the major’s share as well as his own. All
this we sealed by the most solemn oaths that the mind could think or
the lips utter. I sat up all night with paper and ink, and by the
morning I had the two charts all ready, signed with the sign of
four,—that is, of Abdullah, Akbar, Mahomet, and myself.
“Well, gentlemen, I weary you with my long story, and I know that my
friend Mr. Jones is impatient to get me safely stowed in chokey. I’ll
make it as short as I can. The villain Sholto went off to India, but he
never came back again. Captain Morstan showed me his name among a list
of passengers in one of the mail-boats very shortly afterwards. His
uncle had died, leaving him a fortune, and he had left the army, yet he
could stoop to treat five men as he had treated us. Morstan went over
to Agra shortly afterwards, and found, as we expected, that the
treasure was indeed gone. The scoundrel had stolen it all, without
carrying out one of the conditions on which we had sold him the secret.
From that day I lived only for vengeance. I thought of it by day and I
nursed it by night. It became an overpowering, absorbing passion with
me. I cared nothing for the law,—nothing for the gallows. To escape, to
track down Sholto, to have my hand upon his throat,—that was my one
thought. Even the Agra treasure had come to be a smaller thing in my
mind than the slaying of Sholto.
“Well, I have set my mind on many things in this life, and never one
which I did not carry out. But it was weary years before my time came.
I have told you that I had picked up something of medicine. One day
when Dr. Somerton was down with a fever a little Andaman Islander was
picked up by a convict-gang in the woods. He was sick to death, and had
gone to a lonely place to die. I took him in hand, though he was as
venomous as a young snake, and after a couple of months I got him all
right and able to walk. He took a kind of fancy to me then, and would
hardly go back to his woods, but was always hanging about my hut. I
learned a little of his lingo from him, and this made him all the
fonder of me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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