The Tragedy of Pondicherry Lodge

It was nearly eleven o'clock when we reached this final stage of our night's adventures. We had left the damp fog of the great city behind us, and the night was fairly fine. A warm wind blew from the westward, and heavy clouds moved slowly across the sky, with half a moon peeping occasionally through the rifts. It was clear enough to see for some distance, but Thaddeus Sholto took down one of the side-lamps from the carriage to give us a better light upon our way.
Pondicherry Lodge stood in its own grounds, and was girt round with a very high stone wall topped with broken glass. A single narrow iron-clamped door formed the only means of entrance. On this our guide knocked with a peculiar postman-like rat-tat.

"Who is there?" cried a gruff voice from within.
"It is I, McMurdo. You surely know my knock by this time."
There was a grumbling sound and a clanking and jarring of keys. The door swung heavily back, and a short, deep-chested man stood in the opening, with the yellow light of the lantern shining upon his protruded face and twinkling distrustful eyes.

"That you, Mr. Thaddeus? But who are the others? I had no orders about them from the master."

"No, McMurdo? You surprise me! I told my brother last night that I should bring some friends."
"He ain't been out o' his room to-day, Mr. Thaddeus, and I have no orders. You know very well that I must stick to regulations. I can let you in, but your friends must just stop where they are."

This was an unexpected obstacle. Thaddeus Sholto looked about him in a perplexed and helpless manner. "This is too bad of you, McMurdo!" he said. "If I guarantee them, that is enough for you. There is the young lady, too. She cannot wait on the public road at this hour."

"Very sorry, Mr. Thaddeus," said the porter, inexorably. "Folk may be friends o' yours, and yet no friends o' the master's. He pays me well to do my duty, and my duty I'll do. I don't know none o' your friends."
"Oh, yes you do, McMurdo," cried Sherlock Holmes, genially. "I don't think you can have forgotten me. Don't you the amateur who fought three rounds with you at Alison's rooms on the night of your benefit four years back?"

"Not Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" roared the prize-fighter. "God's truth! how could I have mistook you? If instead o' standin' there so quiet you had just stepped up and given me that cross-hit of yours under the jaw, I'd ha' known you without a question. Ah, you're one that has wasted your gifts, you have! You might have aimed high, if you had ed the fancy."

"You see, Watson, if all else fails me I have still one of the scientific professions open to me," said Holmes, laughing. "Our friend won't keep us out in the cold now, I am sure."
"In you come, sir, in you come,—you and your friends," he answered. "Very sorry, Mr. Thaddeus, but orders are very strict. Had to be certain of your friends before I let them in."

Inside, a gravel path wound through desolate grounds to a huge clump of a house, square and prosaic, all plunged in shadow save where a moonbeam struck one corner and glimmered in a garret window. The vast size of the building, with its gloom and its deathly silence, struck a chill to the heart. Even Thaddeus Sholto seemed ill at ease, and the lantern quivered and rattled in his hand.

"I cannot understand it," he said. "There must be some mistake. I distinctly told Bartholomew that we should be here, and yet there is no light in his window. I do not know what to make of it."

"Does he always guard the premises in this way?" asked Holmes.
"Yes; he has followed my father's custom. He was the favorite son, you know, and I sometimes think that my father may have told him more than he ever told me. That is Bartholomew's window up there where the moonshine strikes. It is quite bright, but there is no light from within, I think."
"None," said Holmes. "But I see the glint of a light in that little window beside the door."
"Ah, that is the housekeeper's room. That is where old Mrs. Bernstone sits. She can tell us all about it. But perhaps you would not mind waiting here for a minute or two, for if we all go in together and she has no word of our coming she may be alarmed. But hush! what is that?"
He held up the lantern, and his hand shook until the circles of light flickered and wavered all round us. Miss Morstan seized my wrist, and we all stood with thumping hearts, straining our ears. From the great black house there sounded through the silent night the saddest and most pitiful of sounds,—the shrill, broken whimpering of a frightened woman.

"It is Mrs. Bernstone," said Sholto. "She is the only woman in the house. Wait here. I shall be back in a moment." He hurried for the door, and knocked in his peculiar way. We could see a tall old woman it him, and sway with pleasure at the very sight of him.
"Oh, Mr. Thaddeus, sir, I am so glad you have come! I am so glad you have come, Mr. Thaddeus, sir!" We heard her reiterated rejoicings until the door was closed and her voice died away into a muffled monotone.
Our guide had left us the lantern. Holmes swung it slowly round, and peered keenly at the house, and at the great rubbish-heaps which cumbered the grounds.

Miss Morstan and I stood together, and her hand was in mine. A wondrous subtle thing is love, for here were we two who had never seen each other before that day, between whom no word or even look of affection had ever ed, and yet now in an hour of trouble our hands instinctively sought for each other.

I have marvelled at it since, but at the time it seemed the most natural thing that I should go out to her so, and, as she has often told me, there was in her also the instinct to turn to me for comfort and protection. So we stood hand in hand, like two children, and there was peace in our hearts for all the dark things that surrounded us.

"What a strange place!" she said, looking round.
"It looks as though all the moles in England had been let loose in it. I have seen something of the sort on the side of a hill near Ballarat, where the prospectors had been at work."
"And from the same cause," said Holmes. "These are the traces of the treasure-seekers. You must that they were six years looking for it. No wonder that the grounds look like a gravel-pit."
At that moment the door of the house burst open, and Thaddeus Sholto came running out, with his hands thrown forward and terror in his eyes.

"There is something amiss with Bartholomew!" he cried. "I am frightened! My nerves cannot stand it." He was, indeed, half blubbering with fear, and his twitching feeble face peeping out from the great Astrakhan collar had the helpless appealing expression of a terrified child.
"Come into the house," said Holmes, in his crisp, firm way.
"Yes, do!" pleaded Thaddeus Sholto. "I really do not feel equal to giving directions."
We all followed him into the housekeeper's room, which stood upon the left-hand side of the age. The old woman was pacing up and down with a scared look and restless picking fingers, but the sight of Miss Morstan appeared to have a soothing effect upon her.
"God bless your sweet calm face!" she cried, with an hysterical sob. "It does me good to see you. Oh, but I have been sorely tried this day!"
Our companion patted her thin, work-worn hand, and murmured some few words of kindly womanly comfort which brought the color back into the others bloodless cheeks.

"Master has locked himself in and will not answer me," she explained. "All day I have waited to hear from him, for he often likes to be alone; but an hour ago I feared that something was amiss, so I went up and peeped through the key-hole. You must go up, Mr. Thaddeus,—you must go up and look for yourself. I have seen Mr. Bartholomew Sholto in joy and in sorrow for ten long years, but I never saw him with such a face on him as that."

Sherlock Holmes took the lamp and led the way, for Thaddeus Sholto's teeth were chattering in his head. So shaken was he that I had to my hand under his arm as we went up the stairs, for his knees were trembling under him. Twice as we ascended Holmes whipped his lens out of his pocket and carefully examined marks which appeared to me to be mere shapeless smudges of dust upon the cocoa-nut matting which served as a stair-carpet.

He walked slowly from step to step, holding the lamp, and shooting keen glances to right and left. Miss Morstan had remained behind with the frightened housekeeper.
The third flight of stairs ended in a straight age of some length, with a great picture in Indian tapestry upon the right of it and three doors upon the left. Holmes advanced along it in the same slow and methodical way, while we kept close at his heels, with our long black shadows streaming backwards down the corridor. The third door was that which we were seeking. Holmes knocked without receiving any answer, and then tried to turn the handle and force it open. It was locked on the inside, however, and by a broad and powerful bolt, as we could see when we set our lamp up against it. The key being turned, however, the hole was not entirely closed. Sherlock Holmes bent down to it, and instantly rose again with a sharp intaking of the breath.
"There is something devilish in this, Watson," said he, more moved than I had ever before seen him. "What do you make of it?"
I stooped to the hole, and recoiled in horror. Moonlight was streaming into the room, and it was bright with a vague and shifty radiance. Looking straight at me, and suspended, as it were, in the air, for all beneath was in shadow, there hung a face,—the very face of our companion Thaddeus. There was the same high, shining head, the same circular bristle of red hair, the same bloodless countenance. The features were set, however, in a horrible smile, a fixed and unnatural grin, which in that still and moonlit room was more jarring to the nerves than any scowl or contortion. So like was the face to that of our little friend that I looked round at him to make sure that he was indeed with us. Then I recalled to mind that he had mentioned to us that his brother and he were twins.

"This is terrible!" I said to Holmes. "What is to be done?"

"The door must come down," he answered, and, springing against it, he put all his weight upon the lock. It creaked and groaned, but did not yield. Together we flung ourselves upon it once more, and this time it gave way with a sudden snap, and we found ourselves within Bartholomew Sholto's chamber.
It appeared to have been fitted up as a chemical laboratory. A double line of glass-stoppered bottles was drawn up upon the wall opposite the door, and the table was littered over with Bunsen burners, test-tubes, and retorts. In the corners stood carboys of acid in wicker baskets. One of these appeared to leak or to have been broken, for a stream of dark-colored liquid had trickled out from it, and the air was heavy with a peculiarly pungent, tar-like odor. A set of steps stood at one side of the room, in the midst of a litter of lath and plaster, and above them there was an opening in the ceiling large enough for a man to through. At the foot of the steps a long coil of rope was thrown carelessly together.

By the table, in a wooden arm-chair, the master of the house was seated all in a heap, with his head sunk upon his left shoulder, and that ghastly, inscrutable smile upon his face. He was stiff and cold, and had clearly been dead many hours. It seemed to me that not only his features but all his limbs were twisted and turned in the most fantastic fashion. By his hand upon the table there lay a peculiar instrument,—a brown, close-grained stick, with a stone head like a hammer, rudely lashed on with coarse twine. Beside it was a torn sheet of note-paper with some words scrawled upon it. Holmes glanced at it, and then handed it to me.

"You see," he said, with a significant raising of the eyebrows.
In the light of the lantern I read, with a thrill of horror, "The sign of the four."
"In God's name, what does it all mean?" I asked.
"It means murder," said he, stooping over the dead man. "Ah, I expected it. Look here!" He pointed to what looked like a long, dark thorn stuck in the skin just above the ear.
"It looks like a thorn," said I.

"It is a thorn. You may pick it out. But be careful, for it is poisoned."
I took it up between my finger and thumb. It came away from the skin so readily that hardly any mark was left behind. One tiny speck of blood showed where the puncture had been.
"This is all an insoluble mystery to me," said I. "It grows darker instead of clearer."

"On the contrary," he answered, "it clears every instant. I only require a few missing links to have an entirely connected case."
We had almost forgotten our companion's presence since we entered the chamber. He was still standing in the door-way, the very picture of terror, wringing his hands and moaning to himself. Suddenly, however, he broke out into a sharp, querulous cry.

"The treasure is gone!" he said. "They have robbed him of the treasure! There is the hole through which we lowered it. I helped him to do it! I was the last person who saw him! I left him here last night, and I heard him lock the door as I came down-stairs."

"What time was that?"

"It was ten o'clock. And now he is dead, and the police will be called in, and I shall be suspected of having had a hand in it. Oh, yes, I am sure I shall. But you don't think so, gentlemen? Surely you don't think that it was I? Is it likely that I would have brought you here if it were I? Oh, dear! oh, dear! I know that I shall go mad!" He jerked his arms and stamped his feet in a kind of convulsive frenzy.

"You have no reason for fear, Mr. Sholto," said Holmes, kindly, putting his hand upon his shoulder. "Take my advice, and drive down to the station to report this matter to the police. Offer to assist them in every way. We shall wait here until your return."

The little man obeyed in a half-stupefied fashion, and we heard him stumbling down the stairs in the dark.

La tragedia del Pabelln Pondicherry

Eran casi las once de la noche cuando llegamos a esta etapa final de nuestra aventura nocturna. Habamos dejado atrs la niebla hmeda de la ciudad y haca bastante buena noche. Soplaba un viento clido del Oeste, y por el cielo se desplazaban densas nubes, entre cuyas aberturas asomaba de vez en cuando la media luna. Haba bastante claridad como para ver a cierta distancia, pero Thaddeus Sholto descolg uno de los faroles laterales del carruaje para iluminar mejor nuestro camino.
El Pabelln Pondicherry se alzaba en terreno propio, rodeado por una tapia de piedra muy alta y rematada con cristales rotos. La nica va de entrada era una puerta estrecha con refuerzos de hierro. Nuestro gua llam a esta puerta con un tpico toc––toc como el de los carteros.
––Quin es? ––grit desde dentro una voz ronca.
––Soy yo, McMurdo. Ya deberas conocer mi llamada.
Omos una especie de gruido y el tintineo y rechinar de llaves. La puerta se abri con dificultad hacia dentro y un hombre bajo y ancho de pecho apareci en el hueco; la luz amarillenta del farol caa sobre su rostro de facciones prominentes, hacindole guiar los ojos desconfiados.
––Es usted, seor Thaddeus? Pero quines son esos otros? El seor no me ha dicho nada de ellos.
––Cmo que no, McMurdo? Me sorprendes. Anoche le dije a mi hermano que traera unos amigos.
––No ha salido de su habitacin en todo el da, seor Thaddeus, y no me ha dado instrucciones. Usted sabe muy bien que debo atenerme a las normas. Puedo dejarle entrar a usted, pero sus amigos tienen que quedarse donde estn.
Aqul era un obstculo inesperado. Thaddeus Sholto mir a su alrededor con aire perplejo e indefenso.
––Esto no puede ser, McMurdo ––dijo––. Si yo respondo de ellos, con eso debe bastarte. Y qu me dices de la seorita? No puede quedarse esperando en la carretera a estas horas.
––Lo siento mucho, seor Thaddeus ––dijo el portero, inexorable––.Esta gente pueden ser amigos suyos y no serlo del seor. l me paga bien para que cumpla mi tarea, y yo cumplo mi tarea. No conozco a ninguno de sus amigos.
––S que conoce a alguno, McMurdo ––exclam Sherlock Holmes jovialmente––. No creo que se haya olvidado de m. No se acuerda del aficionado que pele tres asaltos con usted en los salones Alison la noche de su homenaje, hace cuatro aos?
––No ser usted Sherlock Holmes! ––rugi el boxeador––. Vlgame Dios! Mira que no reconocerle! Si en lugar de quedarse ah tan callado se hubiera adelantado para atizarme aquel gancho suyo en la mandbula, le habra conocido a la primera. Ah, usted s que ha desaprovechado su talento! Habra podido llegar muy alto si hubiera puesto ganas.
––Ya lo ve, Watson, si todo lo dems me falla, an tengo abierta una de las profesiones cientficas ––dijo Holmes, echndose a rer––. Estoy seguro de que nuestro amigo no nos dejar ahora a la intemperie.
––Pase, seor, pase... usted y sus amigos ––respondi el portero––. Lo siento mucho, seor Thaddeus, pero las rdenes son muy estrictas. Tena que asegurarme de quines eran sus amigos antes de dejarlos entrar.
Una vez dentro, un sendero de grava serpenteaba a travs de un terreno desolado hacia la enorme mole de una casa cuadrada y prosaica, toda sumida en sombras excepto una esquina, donde un rayo de luna se reflejaba en la ventana de una buhardilla. El enorme tamao del edificio, con su aspecto lbrego y su silencio mortal, helaba el corazn. Hasta Thaddeus Sholto pareca sentirse incmodo, y el farol temblaba estrepitosamente en su mano.
––No lo entiendo ––dijo––. Tiene que haber algn error. Le dije bien claro a Bartholomew que vendramos, pero no hay luz en su ventana. No s qu pensar.
––Siempre tiene la casa as de bien guardada? ––pregunt Holmes.
––S, ha seguido la costumbre de mi padre. Era el hijo favorito, sabe usted?, y a veces pienso que es posible que mi padre le dijera a l cosas que no me dijo a m. Aquella de arriba es la ventana de Bartholomew, donde cae la luz de la luna. Brilla mucho, pero me parece que dentro no hay luz.
––No, nada ––dijo Holmes––. Pero s que se ve brillar una luz en aquella ventanita, al lado de la puerta.
––Ah, sa es la habitacin del ama de llaves. All vive la anciana seora Bernstone. Ella podr informarnos. Pero tal vez lo mejor sea que esperen ustedes aqu un par de minutos, porque si entramos todos juntos y ella no est enterada de que venamos, puede asustarse. Pero... silencio! Qu es eso?
Levant el farol y su mano se puso a temblar hasta que los crculos de luz empezaron a dar vueltas y parpadeos en torno nuestro. La seorita Morstan me agarr de la mueca y todos nos quedamos inmviles, con el corazn palpitando con furia y el odo aguzado. Desde el gran casern negro, atravesando el silencio de la noche, nos llegaba el sonido ms triste y lastimero que existe: los sollozos agudos y entrecortados de una mujer aterrorizada.
––Es la seora Bernstone! ––dijo Sholto––. No hay otra mujer en la casa. Esperen aqu. Vuelvo ahora mismo.
Ech a correr hacia la puerta y llam con su tpica llamada. Vimos que una anciana alta le abra y se echaba a temblar de gozo nada ms verlo.
––Ay, seor Thaddeus, qu alegra que haya venido! Qu alegra que haya venido, seor Thaddeus!
Seguimos oyendo sus reiteradas manifestaciones de alegra hasta que la puerta se cerr y su voz se apag, quedando reducida a un zumbido montono.
Nuestro gua nos haba dejado el farol. Holmes lo gir lentamente a nuestro alrededor y observ con atencin la casa y los montones de tierra removida que salpicaban el terreno. La seorita Morstan y yo nos quedamos juntos, cogidos de la mano. Qu cosa tan maravillosamente sutil es el amor! All estbamos los dos, que nunca nos habamos visto hasta aquel da, que no habamos intercambiado ni una palabra, ni tan siquiera una mirada de cario, y sin embargo, ahora que pasbamos un momento de apuro, nuestras manos se haban buscado instintivamente. Siempre que pienso en ello me maravilla, pero en entonces me pareci la cosa ms natural volverme hacia ella, y ella me ha contado a veces que tambin fue el instinto el que la hizo recurrir a m en busca de proteccin. Y as nos quedamos, cogidos de la mano como dos nios, y haba paz en nuestros corazones a pesar de todas las cosas siniestras que nos rodeaban.
––Qu lugar tan extrao! ––dijo ella, mirando alrededor. ––Parece como si hubieran soltado por aqu a todos los topos de Inglaterra. He visto algo parecido en la ladera de una montaa de Ballarat, donde haban estado los buscadores de oro.
––Y por los mismos motivos ––dijo Holmes––. stas son las huellas de los buscadores de tesoros. Recuerden que han estado buscndolo durante seis aos. No es de extraar que el terreno parezca una cantera de grava.
En aquel momento, la puerta de la casa se abri de golpe y Thaddeus Sholto sali corriendo, con los brazos extendidos y una expresin de terror en sus ojos.
––A Bartholomew le ha ocurrido algo malo! ––grit––. Estoy asustado. Mis nervios no aguantan ms. Efectivamente, balbuceaba de miedo y su rostro gesticulante y dbil, que asomaba sobre el gran cuello de astracn, tena la expresin desamparada de un nio asustado.
––Entremos en la casa ––dijo Holmes con su tono firme y decidido.
––S, entremos! ––gimi Thaddeus Sholto––. La verdad, no me siento capaz de dar rdenes.
Todos le seguimos a la habitacin del ama de llaves, que se encontraba a la izquierda del pasillo. La anciana estaba andando de un lado a otro con gesto asustado y dedos inquietos, pero la presencia de la seorita Morstan pareci ejercer en ella un efecto tranquilizador.
––Dios bendiga su cara dulce y serena! ––exclam con un sollozo histrico––. Es un consuelo verla! Ay, qu da tan espantoso he pasado!
Nuestra acompaante le dio unas palmaditas en las manos huesudas y estropeadas por el trabajo, y murmur algunas palabras de consuelo, amables y femeninas, que devolvieron el color a las mejillas cadavricas de la pobre mujer.
––El seor se ha encerrado y no me responde ––explic––. He estado todo el da esperando que llame, porque a veces le gusta estar solo sin que le molesten, pero hace una hora tem que pasara algo malo, sub a su cuarto y mir por el ojo de la cerradura. Tiene usted que subir, seor Thaddeus..., tiene que subir y verlo usted mismo. Llevo diez largos aos viendo al seor Bartholomew Sholto, en momentos buenos y momentos malos, pero jams lo he visto con una cara como la que tiene ahora.
Sherlock Holmes tom el farol y abri la marcha, ya que a Thaddeus Sholto le castaeteaban los dientes y estaba tan trastornado que tuve que pasarle la mano bajo el brazo para sostenerlo cuando subamos las escaleras, porque le temblaban las rodillas.
Durante la ascensin, Holmes sac dos veces su lupa del bolsillo y examin atentamente marcas que a m me parecieron simples manchas de polvo en la estera de palma que serva como alfombra de la escalera. Caminaba despacio, de escaln en escaln, sosteniendo la lmpara a poca altura y lanzando atentas miradas a derecha e izquierda. La seorita Morstan se haba quedado con la aterrorizada ama de llaves.
El tercer tramo de escaleras terminaba en un pasillo recto bastante largo, con un gran tapiz indio a la derecha y tres puertas a la izquierda. Holmes avanz por dicho pasillo del mismo modo lento y metdico, y los dems le seguamos los pasos, proyectando negras y largas sombras a nuestras espaldas. La tercera puerta era la que buscbamos. Holmes llam sin obtener respuesta, y despus intent girar el picaporte y abrirlo a la fuerza. Pero la puerta estaba cerrada por dentro, y con una cerradura muy grande y resistente, como pudimos apreciar alumbrndola con la lmpara. No obstante, como haban hecho girar la llave, el ojo de la cerradura no estaba tapado del todo. Sherlock Holmes se agach para mirar y se incorpor al instante, tomando aire ruidosamente.
––Aqu hay algo diablico, Watson ––dijo, ms emocionado que lo que yo le haba visto nunca––. Qu le parece a usted?
Me agach para mirar por el agujero y retroced horrorizado. La luz de la luna entraba en la habitacin, iluminndola con un resplandor difuso y desigual. Mirndome de frente y como suspendida en el aire, ya que todo lo dems estaba en sombras, haba una cara..., la mismsima cara de nuestro compaero Thaddeus. Tena el mismo crneo puntiagudo y brillante, la misma orla circular de pelo rojo, la misma palidez en el rostro. Sin embargo, sus facciones estaban contradas en una sonrisa horrible, una sonrisa agarrotada y antinatural, que en aquella habitacin silenciosa y a la luz de la luna resultaba ms perturbadora que cualquier contorsin o mal gesto. Tanto se pareca aquel rostro al de nuestro pequeo amigo que me volv a mirarlo para asegurarme de que segua con nosotros. Slo entonces me acord de que nos haba dicho que su hermano y l eran gemelos.
––Es terrible! ––le dije a Holmes––. Qu hacemos? ––Hay que echar abajo la puerta ––respondi, lanzndose contra ella y aplicando todo su peso sobre la cerradura.
La puerta cruji y gimi, pero no cedi. De nuevo nos lanzamos contra ella, los dos juntos, y esta vez se abri con un sbito chasquido y nos encontramos dentro de la habitacin de Bartholomew Sholto.
Pareca estar equipada como un laboratorio qumico. En la pared ms alejada de la puerta se alineaba una doble hilera de frascos con tapn de cristal, y en la mesa haba un revoltijo de mecheros Bunsen, tubos de ensayo y retortas. En los rincones haba garrafas de cido en cestos de mimbre. Una de ellas tena un agujero o estaba rota, porque haba dejado escapar un reguero de lquido oscuro y el aire estaba cargado de un olor picante, como de alquitrn. A un lado de la habitacin haba una escalera de mano, en medio de un montn de tablas rotas y trozos de escayola, y encima de ella se vea un agujero en el techo, lo bastante grande para que pasara por l un hombre. Al pie de la escalera haba un largo rollo de cuerda, tirado de cualquier manera.
Junto a la mesa, sentado en un silln de madera, estaba sentado el dueo de la casa, desmadejado y con la cabeza cada sobre el hombro izquierdo, y con aquella sonrisa espantosa e inescrutable en su rostro. Estaba rgido y fro, y se notaba que llevaba muerto muchas horas. Me dio la impresin de que no slo sus facciones, sino todos sus , estaban retorcidos y contrados de la manera ms fantstica. Sobre la mesa, junto a la mano del muerto, haba un instrumento muy curioso: un mango de madera oscura y de grano fino con una cabeza de piedra, como la de un martillo, atada toscamente con una cuerda spera. Junto a esta especie de maza haba una hoja de cuaderno rasgada, en la que se vean garabateadas unas palabras. Holmes le ech un vistazo y luego me la pas.
––Mire ––dijo, levantando elocuentemente las cejas.
A la luz de la linterna, le con un estremecimiento de horror: El signo de los cuatro.
––Por amor de Dios! Qu significa esto? ––pregunt.
––Significa asesinato ––respondi Holmes, inclinndose sobre el cadver–– . Aj! Lo que yo supona. Mire aqu!
Estaba sealando algo que pareca una espina larga y oscura, clavada en la piel justo encima de la oreja.
––Parece una espina ––dije.
––Es una espina. Puede usted arrancarla, pero tenga cuidado, porque est envenenada.
La cog entre el ndice y el pulgar. Sali con tanta facilidad que prcticamente no dej seal en la piel. El nico rastro del pinchazo era una minscula gotita de sangre.
––Para m, todo esto es un misterio insoluble ––dije––. En lugar de aclararse, cada vez se enturbia ms.
––Al contrario ––respondi Holmes––. Se va aclarando ms a cada instante. Ya slo me faltan unos pocos eslabones para tener el caso completamente explicado.
Desde que entramos en la habitacin, casi nos habamos olvidado de nuestro compaero, que segua de pie en el umbral, convertido en la imagen misma del terror, retorciendo las manos y gimoteando en voz baja. Pero de pronto estall en un grito penetrante y angustiado.
––El tesoro ha desaparecido! ––exclam––. Le han robado el tesoro! se es el agujero por donde lo bajamos. Yo le ayud a hacerlo. Fui la ltima persona que vio a mi hermano. Lo dej aqu anoche, y le o cerrar la puerta mientras yo bajaba la escalera.
––Qu hora era?
––Las diez de la noche. Y ahora est muerto, y llamarn a la polica, y sospecharn que yo he tenido parte en el asunto. S, seguro que sospecharn. Pero ustedes no creern eso, verdad, caballeros? Verdad que no creen que fui yo? Los habra trado aqu si hubiera sido yo? Ay, Dios mo! Ay, Dios mo! S que me voy a volver loco.
Se puso a agitar los brazos y patear el suelo, en una especie de frenes convulsivo.
––No debe temer nada, seor Sholto ––dijo Holmes amablemente, ponindole la mano en el hombro––. Siga mi consejo y vaya en el coche a la comisara para informar a la polica. Ofrzcase para ayudarlos en todo lo que haga falta. Nosotros aguardaremos aqu hasta que usted vuelva.
El hombrecillo obedeci medio atontado y le omos bajar las escaleras en la oscuridad, dando tropezones.