Chapter V The Tragedy of Pondicherry Lodge

asshehasoftentoldme,therewasinheralsotheinstincttoturntomeforcomfortandprotection.Sowestoodhandinhand,liketwochildren,andtherewaspeaceinourheartsforallthedarkthingsthatsurroundedus. “Whatastrangeplace!”shesaid,lookinground. “ItlooksasthoughallthemolesinEnglandhadbeenletlooseinit.IhaveseensomethingofthesortonthesideofahillnearBallarat,wheretheprospectorshadbeenatwork.” “Andfromthesamecause,”saidHolmes.“Thesearethetracesofthetreasure-seekers.Youmustrememberthattheyweresixyearslookingforit.Nowonderthatthegroundslooklikeagravel-pit.” Atthatmomentthedoorofthehouseburstopen,andThaddeusSholtocamerunningout,withhishandsthrownforwardandterrorinhiseyes. “ThereissomethingamisswithBartholomew!”hecried.“Iamfrightened!Mynervescannotstandit.”Hewas,indeed,halfblubberingwithfear,andhistwitchingfeeblefacepeepingoutfromthegreatAstrakhancollarhadthehelplessappealingexpressionofaterrifiedchild. “Comeintothehouse,”saidHolmes,inhiscrisp,firmway. “Yes,do!”pleadedThaddeusSholto.“Ireallydonotfeelequaltogivingdirections.” Weallfollowedhimintothehousekeeper’sroom,whichstoodupontheleft-handsideofthepassage.Theoldwomanwaspacingupanddownwithascaredlookandrestlesspickingfingers,butthesightofMissMorstanappearedtohaveasoothingeffectuponher. “Godblessyoursweetcalmface!”shecried,withanhystericalsob.“Itdoesmegoodtoseeyou.Oh,butIhavebeensorelytriedthisday!” Ourcompanionpattedherthin,work-wornhand,andmurmuredsomefewwordsofkindlywomanlycomfortwhichbroughtthecolourbackintotheother’sbloodlesscheeks. “Masterhaslockedhimselfinandwillnotanswerme,”sheexplained.“AlldayIhavewaitedtohearfromhim,forheoftenlikestobealonebutanhouragoIfearedthatsomethingwasamiss,soIwentupandpeepedthroughthekey-hole.Youmustgoup,Mr.Thaddeus,—youmustgoupandlookforyourself.IhaveseenMr.BartholomewSholtoinjoyandinsorrowfortenlongyears,butIneversawhimwithsuchafaceonhimasthat.” SherlockHolmestookthelampandledtheway,forThaddeusSholto’steethwerechatteringinhishead.SoshakenwashethatIhadtopassmyhandunderhisarmaswewentupthestairs,forhiskneesweretremblingunderhim.TwiceasweascendedHolmeswhippedhislensoutofhispocketandcarefullyexaminedmarkswhichappearedtometobemereshapelesssmudgesofdustuponthecocoa-nutmattingwhichservedasastair-carpet.Hewalkedslowlyfromsteptostep,holdingthelamp,andshootingkeenglancestorightandleft.MissMorstanhadremained