ststeppedupandgivenmethatcross-hitofyoursunderthejaw,I’dha’knownyouwithoutaquestion.Ah,you’reonethathaswastedyourgifts,youhave!Youmighthaveaimedhigh,ifyouhadjoinedthefancy.”
“Yousee,Watson,ifallelsefailsmeIhavestilloneofthescientificprofessionsopentome,”saidHolmes,laughing.“Ourfriendwon’tkeepusoutinthecoldnow,Iamsure.”
“Inyoucome,sir,inyoucome,—youandyourfriends,”heanswered.“Verysorry,Mr.Thaddeus,butordersareverystrict.HadtobecertainofyourfriendsbeforeIletthemin.”
Inside,agravelpathwoundthroughdesolategroundstoahugeclumpofahouse,squareandprosaic,allplungedinshadowsavewhereamoonbeamstruckonecornerandglimmeredinagarretwindow.Thevastsizeofthebuilding,withitsgloomanditsdeathlysilence,struckachilltotheheart.EvenThaddeusSholtoseemedillatease,andthelanternquiveredandrattledinhishand.
“Icannotunderstandit,”hesaid.“Theremustbesomemistake.IdistinctlytoldBartholomewthatweshouldbehere,andyetthereisnolightinhiswindow.Idonotknowwhattomakeofit.”
“Doeshealwaysguardthepremisesinthisway?”askedHolmes.
“Yeshehasfollowedmyfather’scustom.Hewasthefavouriteson,youknow,andIsometimesthinkthatmyfathermayhavetoldhimmorethanheevertoldme.ThatisBartholomew’swindowuptherewherethemoonshinestrikes.Itisquitebright,butthereisnolightfromwithin,Ithink.”
“None,”saidHolmes.“ButIseetheglintofalightinthatlittlewindowbesidethedoor.”
“Ah,thatisthehousekeeper’sroom.ThatiswhereoldMrs.Bernstonesits.Shecantellusallaboutit.Butperhapsyouwouldnotmindwaitinghereforaminuteortwo,forifweallgointogetherandshehasnowordofourcomingshemaybealarmed.Buthush!whatisthat?”
Heheldupthelantern,andhishandshookuntilthecirclesoflightflickeredandwaveredallroundus.MissMorstanseizedmywrist,andweallstoodwiththumpinghearts,strainingourears.Fromthegreatblackhousetheresoundedthroughthesilentnightthesaddestandmostpitifulofsounds,—theshrill,brokenwhimperingofafrightenedwoman.
“ItisMrs.Bernstone,”saidSholto.“Sheistheonlywomaninthehouse.Waithere.Ishallbebac