Знак чотирьох
X. The End of the Islander
Aslongashehasliquorandgoodpay,whyshouldheaskquestions?Theysendhimmessageswhattodo.No,Ithoughtovereverypossiblecourse,andthisisthebest.”
Whilethisconversationhadbeenproceeding,wehadbeenshootingthelongseriesofbridgeswhichspantheThames.AswepassedtheCitythelastraysofthesunweregildingthecrossuponthesummitofSt.Paul’s.ItwastwilightbeforewereachedtheTower.
“ThatisJacobson’sYard,”saidHolmes,pointingtoabristleofmastsandriggingontheSurreyside.“Cruisegentlyupanddownhereundercoverofthisstringoflighters.”Hetookapairofnight-glassesfromhispocketandgazedsometimeattheshore.“Iseemysentryathispost,”heremarked,“butnosignofahandkerchief.”
“Supposewegodown-streamashortwayandlieinwaitforthem,”saidJones,eagerly.Wewerealleagerbythistime,eventhepolicemenandstokers,whohadaveryvagueideaofwhatwasgoingforward.
“Wehavenorighttotakeanythingforgranted,”Holmesanswered.“Itiscertainlytentoonethattheygodown-stream,butwecannotbecertain.Fromthispointwecanseetheentranceoftheyard,andtheycanhardlyseeus.Itwillbeaclearnightandplentyoflight.Wemuststaywhereweare.Seehowthefolkswarmoveryonderinthegaslight.”
“Theyarecomingfromworkintheyard.”
“Dirty-lookingrascals,butIsupposeeveryonehassomelittleimmortalsparkconcealedabouthim.Youwouldnotthinkit,tolookatthem.Thereisnoaprioriprobabilityaboutit.
