XI. The Great Agra Treasure

           Ourcaptivesatinthecabinoppositetotheironboxwhichhehaddonesomuchandwaitedsolongtogain.Hewasasunburned,reckless-eyedfellow,withanetworkoflinesandwrinklesalloverhismahoganyfeatures,whichtoldofahard,open-airlife.Therewasasingularprominenceabouthisbeardedchinwhichmarkedamanwhowasnottobeeasilyturnedfromhispurpose.Hisagemayhavebeenfiftyorthereabouts,forhisblack,curlyhairwasthicklyshotwithgrey.Hisfaceinreposewasnotanunpleasingone,thoughhisheavybrowsandaggressivechingavehim,asIhadlatelyseen,aterribleexpressionwhenmovedtoanger.Hesatnowwithhishandcuffedhandsuponhislap,andhisheadsunkuponhisbreast,whilehelookedwithhiskeen,twinklingeyesattheboxwhichhadbeenthecauseofhisill-doings.Itseemedtomethattherewasmoresorrowthanangerinhisrigidandcontainedcountenance.Oncehelookedupatmewithagleamofsomethinglikehumourinhiseyes.

           “Well,JonathanSmall,”saidHolmes,lightingacigar,“Iamsorrythatithascometothis.”

           “AndsoamI,sir,”heanswered,frankly.“Idon’tbelievethatIcanswingoverthejob.IgiveyoumywordonthebookthatIneverraisedhandagainstMr.Sholto.Itwasthatlittlehell-houndTongawhoshotoneofhiscurseddartsintohim.Ihadnopartinit,sir.Iwasasgrievedasifithadbeenmyblood-relation.Iweltedthelittledevilwiththeslackendoftheropeforit,butitwasdone,andIcouldnotundoitagain.