Barton County democrat. [volume] (Great Bend, Kan.) 1885-1915, 1895-06-06
CHAPTER VII.
THE EPISODE OF THE BARREL.

them, ana IN THIS escorted MISS
Morstan back to her home. After the
angelic fashion of women, she had
borne trouble with calm face as long
as there was some one weaker than her
self to support, and I had found her
bright and placid by the side of the
frightened housekeeper- In the cab,
however, she first turned faint, and
then burst into a passion of weeping
SO sorely had she been tried by the
adventures of the night. She has told
me since that she thought me cold and
distant upon that journey. She little
guessed the struggle within my breast,
or the effort of self-restraint which
held me back. My sympathies and my
love went out to her, even as
my hand had IN the garden. l felt
that years of the conventionalities of
life could not teach me to know her
sweet, brave nature as had this one
day Of strange experiences. Yet there
were two thoughts which sealed the
words of affection upon my lips. She
was weak and helpless. shaken in mind
and nerve. It was to take her at dis
advantage to obtrude love upon her at
such a 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 a mere vulgar fortune
seeker? I could not bear to risk that
such a thought should cross her mind.
This Agra treasure interviewed like an
impossible barrier between US.
It 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, middle-aged,
graceful woman, and it gave me joy to
see how tender1y 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
ent, 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 stole a
R1daCO OdChs anu SG111 OCSIA W 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. It 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 I thought Of what had
happened, the wilder and darker it
| grew. I reviewed the whole extraor-
| binary sequence of events as I 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 a 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 sim
gu1ar 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 a labyrinth in which
a man less singularly endowed than my
fellow 1odger might well despair OF
ever finding the clew.
Pinchin lane was a row of shabby
two-storied brick houses in the lower
quarter of Lambeth. I had to knock
for some time at No. before I could
make any impression. At last, how.
ever, there was the CLINT of a candle
behind the blind, and 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"
'sIf you'll let one out it's just what
have come for said I.
$50 on!" yelled the voice. $50 helI
me gracious, have wiper in this bag
an I'll drop it on you're cad if yoJ
don't hook it,,
''But want dog" cried.
81 won't be argued withr' shouted Mr.
Sherman. ''Now stand clear; for wher
say three, down goes the wiper"
''Mr. Sherlock Holmes" began. bu
the words had a most magical effect
for the window instantly slammed
down, and within a minute the doc
was unbarred and open. Mr.. Sherman
was a lanky, lean old man, with stoop
ing shoulders, stringy neck and blue
! tinted glasses