tionoftheManorHouse.Twohourspassedslowlyaway,andthen,suddenly,justatthestrokeofeleven,asinglebrightlightshoneoutrightinfrontofus.
“Thatisoursignal,”saidHolmes,springingtohisfeet“itcomesfromthemiddlewindow.”
Aswepassedoutheexchangedafewwordswiththelandlord,explainingthatweweregoingonalatevisittoanacquaintance,andthatitwaspossiblethatwemightspendthenightthere.Amomentlaterwewereoutonthedarkroad,achillwindblowinginourfaces,andoneyellowlighttwinklinginfrontofusthroughthegloomtoguideusonoursombreerrand.
Therewaslittledifficultyinenteringthegrounds,forunrepairedbreachesgapedintheoldparkwall.Makingourwayamongthetrees,wereachedthelawn,crossedit,andwereabouttoenterthroughthewindowwhenoutfromaclumpoflaurelbushestheredartedwhatseemedtobeahideousanddistortedchild,whothrewitselfuponthegrasswithwrithinglimbsandthenranswiftlyacrossthelawnintothedarkness.
“MyGod!”Iwhispered“didyouseeit?”
HolmeswasforthemomentasstartledasI.Hishandclosedlikeaviceuponmywristinhisagitation.Thenhebrokeintoalowlaughandputhislipstomyear.
“Itisanicehousehold,”hemurmured.“Thatisthebaboon.”
IhadforgottenthestrangepetswhichtheDoctoraffected.Therewasacheetah,tooperhapswemightfindituponourshouldersatanymoment.IconfessthatIfelteasierinmymindwhen,afterfollowingHolmes’exampleandslippingoffmyshoes,Ifoundmyselfinsidethebedroom.Mycompanionnoiselesslyclosedtheshutters,movedthelampontothetable,andcasthiseyesroundtheroom.Allwasaswehadseenitinthedaytime.Thencreepinguptomeandmakingatrumpetofhishand,hewhisperedintomyearagainsogentlythatitwasallthatIcoulddotodistinguishthewords:
“Theleastsoundwouldbefataltoourplans.”
InoddedtoshowthatIhadheard.
“Wemustsitwithoutlight.Hewouldseeitthroughtheventilator.”
Inoddedagain.
“Donotgoasleepyourverylifemaydependuponit.Haveyourpistolreadyincaseweshouldneedit.Iwillsitonthesideofthebed,andyouinthatchair.”
Itookoutmyrevolverandlaiditonthecornerofthetable.
Holmeshadbroughtupalongthincane,andthisheplaceduponthebedbesidehim.Byithelaidtheboxofmatchesandthestumpofacandle.Thenheturneddownthelamp,andwewereleftindarkness.
HowshallIeverforgetthatdreadfulvigil?Icouldnothearasound,noteventhedrawingofabreath,andyetIknewthatmycompanionsatopen-eyed,withinafewfeetofme,inthesamestateofnervoustensioninwhichIwasmyself.Theshutterscutofftheleastrayoflight,andwewaitedinabsolutedarkness.
Fromoutsidecametheoccasionalcryofanight-bird,andonceatourverywindowalongdrawncatlikewhine,whichtoldusthatthecheetahwasindeedatliberty.Farawaywecouldhearthedeeptonesoftheparishclock,whichboomedouteveryquarterofanhour.Howlongtheyseemed,thosequarters!Twelvestruck,andoneandtwoandthree,andstillwesatwaitingsilentlyforwhatevermightbefall.
Suddenlytherewasthemomentarygleamofalightupinthedirectionoftheventilator,whichvanishedimmediately,butwassucceededbyastrongsmellofburningoilandheatedmetal.Someoneinthenextroomhadlitadark-lantern.Iheardagentlesoundofmovement,andthenallwassilentoncemore,thoughthesmellgrewstronger.ForhalfanhourIsatwithstrainingears.Thensuddenlyanothersoundbecameaudible—averygentle,soothingsound,likethatofasmalljetofsteamescapingcontinuallyfromakettle.Theinstantthatweheardit,Holmessprangfromthebed,struckamatch,andlashedfuriouslywithhiscaneatthebell-pull.
“Youseeit,Watson?”heyelled.“Youseeit?”
ButIsawnothing.AtthemomentwhenHolmesstruckthelightIheardalow,clearwhistle,butthesuddenglareflashingintomywearyeyesmadeitimpossibleformetotellwhatitwasatwhichmyfriendlashedsosavagely.Icould,however,seethathisfacewasdeadlypaleandfilledwithhorrorandloathing.HehadceasedtostrikeandwasgazingupattheventilatorwhensuddenlytherebrokefromthesilenceofthenightthemosthorriblecrytowhichIhaveeverlistened.Itswelleduplouderandlouder,ahoarseyellofpainandfearandangerallmingledintheonedreadfulshriek.Theysaythatawaydowninthevillage,andeveninthedistantparsonage,thatcryraisedthesleepersfromtheirbeds.Itstruckcoldtoourhearts,andIstoodgazingatHolmes,andheatme,untilthelastechoesofithaddiedawayintothesilencefromwhichitrose.
“Whatcanitmean?”Igasped.
“Itmeansthatitisallover,”Holmesanswered.“Andperhaps,afterall,itisforthebest.Takeyourpistol,andwewillenterDr.Roylott’sroom.”
Withagravefacehelitthelampandledthewaydownthecorridor.Twicehestruckatthechamberdoorwithoutanyreplyfromwithin.Thenheturnedthehandleandentered,Iathisheels,withthecockedpistolinmyhand.
Itwasasingularsightwhichmetoureyes.Onthetablestoodadark-lanternwiththeshutterhalfopen