Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1895-05-22

words of affection upon my lips. She
was weak and helpless, shaken in mind
and nerve. 1t was to take her at a dis
advantage to obtrude love upon her at
such time. Worse, still, she was
rich. If Holmes. researches were sue
cessful she would be an heiress. Was
it fair, was it honorable, that half
pay surgeon should take such advan-
tage of an intimacy which chance had
brought about? Might she not look
upon me as mere vulgar fortune
seeker? / could not bear to risk that
such thought should cross her mind.
This Agra treasure interviewed like an
impossible barrier between us.
1t was nearly two o'clock when we
reached Mrs. Cecil Forrester's The
servants had retired hours ago, but
Mrs Forester had been so interested
by the strange message which Miss
Morstan had received that she had sat
up in the hope of her return. She
opened the door herself, a middle-aged,
graceful woman, and it gave me joy to
see how tenderly her arm stole round
the others waist and how motherly
was the voice in which she greeted her.
She was clearly no mere paid depend
emit, but an honored friend. was in
troduced, and Mrs. Forester earnestly
begged me to step in and to tell her our
adventures. I explained, however, the
Importance of my errand, and prom
ised faithfully to call and report any
progress which we might make with
the case. AS we drove away l stole
glance back, and still seem to see
that little group on the step, the two
graceful, clinging figures, the half
opened door, the hall light shining
through stained glass, the barometer
and the bright stair rods. 1t was sooth-
ing to catch even that passing glimpse
of tranquil English home in the midst
of the wild, dark business which had
absorbed us.
And the more thought of what had
happened, the wilder and darker it
grew. 1 reviewed the whole extraor-
binary sequence of events as ratified
on through the silent gas-lit streets.
There was the original problem; that
at least was pretty clear now. The
death of Capt. Morstan, the sending of
the pearls, the advertisement, the let
ter-we had had light upon all those
events. They had only led us, how
ever, to deeper and far more tragic
mystery. The Indian treasure, the
curious plan found among Morstan's
baggage, the strange scene at Maj.
Sholto's death, the rediscovery of the
treasure Immediately followed by the
murder of the discoverer, the very sin
gular accomplishments to the crime, the
footsteps, the remarkable weapons, the
words upon the card, corresponding
with those upon Capt Morstan's chart
here indeed was labyrinth in which
a man less singularly endowed than my
fellow lodger might well despair of
ever finding the clew.
Pinchin lane was row of shabby
two-storied brick houses in the lower
quarter of Lambeth. / had to knock
for some time at No. 8 before 1 could
make any impression. At last, how
ever, there was the CLINT of candle
behind the blind, and a face looked out
at the upper window.
go on, you drunken vagabond, said
the face. IF you kick up any more
row I'll open the kennels and let out
forty-three dogs upon you.'
''If you'll let one out it's just what /
have come for" said l.
$50 onr' yelled the voice. $50 help
me gracious, have wiper in this bag,
an I'll drop it on you're ead if you
don't hook it,
''But want dog!" cried.
II won't be argued with!' shouted
Mr.. Sherman. ''Now stand clear; for
when 1 say three, down goes the
wiper"
''Mr. Sherlock Holmes" began, but
the words had most magical effect,
for the window instantly slammed
down, and within a minute the door
was unbarred and open. Mr.. Sherman
was lanky, lean old man, with stoop-
ing shoulders, a stringy neck and blue
tinted glasses.
"a friend of Mr.. Sherlock is always
welcome said he. step in, sir. Keep
clear of the badger; for he bites. All,
naughty, naughty, would you take a
nip at the gentleman" This to stoat
which thrust its wicked head and red
eyes between the bars of it's cage
''Don't mind that, sir; it's only slow
worm. 1t hain't got no fangs, so I
gives it the run O. the room, for it
keeps the beetles down. You must not
mind my bein' just little short wi
you at first, for I'm guyed at by the
children, and there's many a one just
comes down this lane to knock me up.
What was it that Mr.. Sherlock Holmes
wanted, sir?"
''He wanted dog of yours"
''Ah! that would be Toby"
eyes, Toby was the name"
'Toby lives at No. on the left
here" He moved slowly forward with
his candle among the queer animal
family which he had gathered round
him. In the uncertain, shadowy light
l could see dimly that there were
glancing, glimmering eyes peeping
down at us from every Granny and
corner. Even the rafters above our
heads were lined by solemn fowls, who
lazily shifted their weight from one
leg to the other as our voices dis
turbed their Slumbers.
L. L.