The Press., 1895-06-06
TBE SIGN OF TRE FOUR.
By A. CONAN DOYLE,
CHAPTER XI,

Our captive sat in the cabin opposite to the iron box which he had done so much aLd waited so long to gain. He was sunburned, reckless eyed fellow, with a network of lines and wrinkles all over his mahogany features, which told of hard, open air life. There was sin gular prominence about his bearded chin which marked a man who was not to be easily turned from his purpose. His age may have been 50 or whereabouts, for his black, curly hair was thickly shot with gray. His face in repose was not an un- pleasing one, though his heavy brows and aggressive chin gave him, as l had lately seen, a terrible expression when moved to anger. He sat now with his handcuffed hands upon his lap and his head sunk upon his breast, while he looked with his keen, tWinkling eyes at the box which had been the cause of his ill doings. It seemed to me that there was more sorrow than anger in his rigid ard contained countenance. Once ho looked up at me with gleam of something like humor in his eyes.
 ''Well, Jonathan Small" said Aolmes, lighting cigar, II am sorry that it has come to this" |"
 And so am 1, sir, ' he answered frank ly. II don't believe that l can swing over the job. I give my word on tho book that never raised my hand against MT. Shol- to. It was that little hell hound Tonga who shot one of his cursed darts into him. I had no part in it, sir. I was as gr4eved as if it had been my blood rela- tion. I welted the little devil with the slack end of tho rope for it, but it was done, and 1 could not undo it again."
 "Have a cigar" said Holmes, "and you had best take pull out of my flask, for you are very wet. How could you expect so small and weak a man as this black fellow to overpower MT. Sholto and hold him while you were climbing the rope?"
 You seem to know as much about it as if you were there, sir. The truth is that I hoped to find tho room clear. l knew the habits of the house pretty well, and it was the time when Mr. Sholto usually went down to his supper. I shall make no secret of the business. The hest defense that I can make is just the sim pie truth Now, if it had been the old major, would have swung for him with a light heart. I would have thought no more of knifng him than of smoking this cigar. But it's cursed hard that I should be Jagged over this young ShOlto, with whom 1 had no quarrel whatever"
 You are under the charge of MT. Ath- elney Jones of Scotland Yard. He is go- ing to bring you up to my rooms, and l shall ask you for a true account of the matter. You must make a clean breast of it, for if you do l hope that l may be of use to you. 1 think 1 can prove that the poison acts so quickly that the man was dead before you ever reached the rOoE."
 That he was, sir. 1 never got such turn in my life as when I saw him grin ming at me with his head on his shoulder as I climbed through the window. It fairly shook me- sir. I'd have half killed Tonga for it if he had not scrambled off. That was how he came to leave his club and some of his darts, too, as he tells me, which, dare say, helped to put you on our track, though how you kept on it is more than 1 can tell. 1 don't feel no malice against you for it. But it does seem queer thing" he added, with bit ter smile, that I, who have fair claim to nigh upon half a million of money, should spend the first half of my life building a breakwater ill the Andamans and am like to spend the other half dig gin drains at Dartmoor. It was an evil day for me when first l clapped eyes upon the merchant Achmet and had to do with the Agra treasure, which never brought anything but curse yet upon the man who owned it. To him it brought mur- der; to Major Sholto it brought fear and guilt; to me it has meant slavery for life. ''
 At this moment Athelney Jones thrust his broad face and heavy shoulders into