such an oven as the Andamans. His height is readily calculated from
the length of his stride, and we know that he was bearded. His
hairiness was the one point which impressed itself upon Thaddeus
Sholto when he saw him at the window. I don't know that there is
anything else."
"The associate?"
"Ah, well, there is no great mystery in that. But you will know
all about it soon enough. How sweet the morning air is! See how that
one little cloud floats like a pink feather from some gigantic
flamingo. Now the red rim of the sun pushes itself over the London
cloud-bank. It shines on a good many folk, but on none, I dare bet,
who are on a stranger errand than you and I. How small we feel with
our petty ambitions and strivings in the presence of the great
elemental forces of Nature! Are you well up in your Jean Paul?"
"Fairly so. I worked back to him through Carlyle."
"That was like following the brook to the parent lake. He makes
one curious but profound remark. It is that the chief proof of man's
real greatness lies in his perception of his own smallness. It argues,
you see, a power of comparison and of appreciation which is in
itself a proof of nobility. There is much food for thought in Richter.
You have not a pistol, have you?"
"I have my stick."
"It is just possible that we may need something of the sort if we
get to their lair. Jonathan I shall leave to you, but if the other
turns nasty I shall shoot him dead."
He took out his revolver as he spoke, and, having loaded two of
the chambers, he put it back into the right-hand pocket of his jacket.
We had during this time been following the guidance of Toby down the
halfrural villa-lined roads which lead to the metropolis. Now,
however, we were beginning to come among continuous streets, where
labourers and dockmen were already astir, and slatternly women were
taking down shutters and brushing doorsteps. At the square-topped
corner public-houses business was just beginning, and rough-looking
men were emerging, rubbing their sleeves across their beards after
their morning wet. Strange dogs sauntered up and stared wonderingly at
us as we passed, but our inimitable Toby looked neither to the right
nor to the left but trotted onward with his nose to the ground and
an occasional eager whine which spoke of a hot scent.
We had traversed Streatham, Brixton, Camberwell, and now found
ourselves in Kennington line, having borne away through the side
streets to the east of the Oval. The men whom we pursued seemed to
have taken a curiously zigzag road, with the idea probably of escaping
observation. They had never kept to the main road if a parallel side
street would serve their turn. At the foot of Kennington Lane they had
edged away to the left through Bond Street and Miles Street. Where the
latter street turns into Knight's Place, Toby ceased to advance but
began to run backward and forward with one ear cocked and the other
drooping, the very picture of canine indecision. Then he waddled round
in circles, looking up to us from time to time, as if to ask for
sympathy in his embarrassment.
"What the deuce is the matter with the dog?" growled Holmes. "They
surely would not take a cab or go off in a balloon."
"Perhaps they stood here for some time," I suggested.
"Ah! it's all right. He's off again," said my companion in a tone of
relief.
He was indeed off, for after sniffing round again he suddenly made
up his mind and darted away with an energy and determination such as
he had not yet shown. The scent appeared to be much hotter than
before, for he had not even to put his nose on the ground but tugged
at his leash and tried to break into a run. I could see by the gleam
in Holmes's eyes that he thought we were nearing the end of our
journey.
Our course now ran down Nine Elms until we came to Broderick and
Nelson's large timber-yard just past the White Eagle tavern. Here
the dog, frantic with excitement, turned down through the side gate
into the enclosure, where the sawyers were already at work. On the dog
raced through sawdust and shavings, down an alley, round a passage,
between two wood-piles, and finally, with a triumphant yelp, sprang
upon a large barrel which still stood upon the hand-trolley on which
it had been brought. With lolling tongue and blinking eyes Toby
stood upon the cask, looking from one to the other of us for some sign
of appreciation. He staves of the barrel and the wheels of the trolley
were smeared with a dark liquid, and the whole air was heavy with
the smell of creosote.
Sherlock Holmes and I looked blankly at each other and then burst
simultaneously into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
Chapter 8
THE BAKER STREET IRREGULARS
"What now?" I asked. "Toby has lost his character for
infallibility."
"He acted according to his lights," said Holmes, lifting him down
from the barrel and walking him out of the timber-yard. "If you
consider how much creosote is carted about London in one day, it is no
great wonder that our trail should have been crossed. It is much
used now, especially for the seasoning of wood. Poor Toby is not to
blame."
"We must get on the main scent again, I suppose."
"Yes. And, fortunately, we have no distance to go. Evidently what
puzzled the dog at the corner of Knight's Place was that there were
two different trails running in opposite directions. We took the wrong
one. It only remains to follow the other."
There was no difficulty about this. On leading Toby to the place
where he had committed his fault, he cast about in a wide circle and
finally dashed off in a fresh direction.
"We must take care that he does not now bring us to the place
where the creosote barrel came from," I observed.
"I had thought of that. But you notice that he keeps on the
pavement, whereas the barrel passed down the roadway. No, we are on
the true scent now."
It tended down towards the riverside, running through Belmont
Place and Prince's Street. At the end of Broad Street it ran right
down to the water's edge, where there was a small wooden wharf. Toby
led us to the very edge of this and there stood whining, looking out
on the dark current beyond.
"We are out of luck," said Holmes. "They have taken to a boat here."
Several small punts and skiffs were lying about in the water and
on the edge of the wharf. We took Toby round to each in turn, but
though he sniffed earnestly he made no sign.
Close to the rude landing-stage was a small brick house, with a
wooden placard slung out through the second window. "Mordecai Smith"
was printed across it in large letters, and, underneath, "Boats to
hire by the hour or day." A second inscription above the door informed
us that a steam launch was kept- a statement which was confirmed by
a great pile of coke upon the jetty. Sherlock Holmes looked slowly
round, and his face assumed an ominous expression.
"This looks bad" said he. "These fellows are sharper than I
expected. They seem to have covered their tracks. There has, I fear,
been preconcerted management here."
He was approaching the door of the house, when it opened, and a
little curlyheaded lad of six came running out, followed by a
stoutish, red-faced woman with a large sponge in her hand.
"You come back and be washed, Jack," she shouted. "Come back, you
young imp; for if your father comes home and finds you like that he'll
let us hear of it."
"Dear little chap!" said Holmes strategically. "What a
rosy-cheeked young rascal! Now, Jack, is there anything you would
like?"
The youth pondered for a moment.
"I'd like a shillin'," said he.
"Nothing you would like better?"
"I'd like two shillin' better," the prodigy answered after some
thought.
"Here you are, then! Catch!- A fine child, Mrs. Smith!"
"Lor' bless you, sir, he is that, and forward. He gets a'most too
much for me to manage, 'specially when my man is away days at a time."
"Away, is he?" said Holmes in a disappointed voice. "I am sorry
for that, for I wanted to speak to Mr. Smith."
"He's been away since yesterday mornin', sir, and, truth to tell,
I am beginnin' to feel frightened about him. But if it was about a
boat, sir, maybe I could serve as well."
"I wanted to hire his steam launch."
"Why, bless you, sir, it is in the steam launch that he has gone.
That's what puzzles me; for I know there ain't more coals in her
than would take her to about Woolwich and back. If he's been away in
the barge I'd ha' thought nothin'; for many a time a job has taken him
as far as Gravesend, and then if there was much doin' there he might
ha' stayed over. But what good is a steam launch without coals?"
"He might have bought some at a wharf down the river."
"He might, sir, but it weren't his way. Many a time I've heard him
call out at the prices they charge for a few odd bags. Besides, I
don't like that wooden legged man, wi' his ugly face and outlandish
talk. What did he want always knockin' about here for?"
"A wooden legged man?" said Holmes with bland surprise.
"Yes, sir, a brown, monkey-faced chap that's called more'n once
for my old man. It was him that roused him up yesternight, and, what's
more, my man knew he was comin', for he had steam up in the launch.
I tell you straight, sir, I don't feel easy in my mind about it."
"But, my dear Mrs. Smith," said Holmes, shrugging his shoulders,
"you are frightening yourself about nothing. How could you possibly
tell that it was the wooden-legged man who came in the night? I
don't quite understand how you can be so sure."
"His voice, sir. I knew his voice, which is kind o' thick and foggy.
He tapped at the winder- about three it would be. `Show a leg, matey,'
says he: `time to turn out guard.' My old man woke up Jim- that's my
eldest- and away they went without so much as a word to me. I could
hear the wooden leg clackin' on the stones."
"And was this wooden-legged man alone?"
"Couldn't say, I am sure, sir. I didn't hear no one else."
"I am sorry, Mrs. Smith, for I wanted a steam launch, and I have
heard good reports of the- Let me see, what is her name?"
"The Aurora, sir."
"Ah! She's not that old green launch with a yellow line, very
broad in the beam?"
"No, indeed. She's as trim a little thing as any on the river. She's
been fresh painted, black with two red streaks."
"Thanks. I hope that you will hear soon from Mr. Smith. I am going
down the river, and if I should see anything of the Aurora I shall let
him know that you are uneasy. A black funnel, you say?"
"No, sir. Black with a white band."
"Ah, of course. It was the sides which were black. Good-morning,
Mrs. Smith. There is a boatman here with a wherry, Watson. We shall
take it and cross the river."
"The main thing with people of that sort," said Holmes as we sat
in the sheets of the wherry, "is never to let them think that their
information can be of the slightest importance to you. If you do
they will instantly shut up like an oyster. If you listen to them
under protest, as it were, you are very likely to get what you want."
"Our course now seems pretty clear," said I.
"What would you do, then?"
"I would engage a launch and go down the river on the track of the
Aurora."
"My dear fellow, it would be a colossal task. She may have touched
at any wharf on either side of the stream between here and
Greenwich. Below the bridge there is a perfect labyrinth of
landing-places for miles. It would take you days and days to exhaust
them if you set about it alone."
"Employ the police, then."
"No. I shall probably call Athelney Jones in at the last moment.
He is not a bad fellow, and I should not like to do anything which
would injure him professionally. But I have a fancy for working it out
myself, now that we have gone so far."
"Could we advertise, then, asking for information from wharfingers?"
"Worse and worse! Our men would know that the chase was hot at their
heels, and they would be off out of the country. As it is, they are
likely enough to leave, but as long as they think they are perfectly
safe they will be in no hurry. Jones's energy will be of use to us
there, for his view of the case is sure to push itself into the
daily press, and the runaways will think that everyone is off on the
wrong scent."
"What are we to do, then?" I asked as we landed near Millbank
Penitentiary.
"Take this hansom, drive home, have some breakfast, and get an
hour's sleep. It is quite on the cards that we may be afoot to-night
again. Stop at a telegraph office, cabby! We will keep Toby, for he
may be of use to us yet."
We pulled up at the Great Peter Street Post-Office, and Holmes
dispatched his wire.
"Whom do you think that is to?" he asked as we resumed our journey.
"I am sure I don't know."
"You remember the Baker Street division of the detective police
force whom I employed in the Jefferson Hope case?"
"Well," said I, laughing.
"This is just the case where they might be invaluable. If they
fail I have other resources, but I shall try them first. That wire was
