ad gone. There seemed to be no necessity why
any soul ever should know.

"'I was still pondering over the matter, when, looking up, I saw my
servant, Lal Chowdar, in the doorway. He stole in and bolted the door
behind him. "Do not fear, Sahib," he said. "No one need know that you
have killed him. Let us hide him away, and who is the wiser?" "I did
not kill him," said I. Lal Chowdar shook his head and smiled. "I
heard it all, Sahib," said he. "I heard you quarrel, and I heard the
blow. But my lips are sealed. All are asleep in the house. Let us put
him away together." That was enough to decide me. If my own servant
could not believe my innocence, how could I hope to make it good before
twelve foolish tradesmen in a jury-box? Lal Chowdar and I disposed of
the body that night, and within a few days the London papers were full
of the mysterious disappearance of Captain Morstan. You will see from
what I say that I can hardly be blamed in the matter. My fault lies in
the fact that we concealed not only the body, but also the treasure,
and that I have clung to Morstan's share as well as to my own. I wish
you, therefore, to make restitution. Put your ears down to my mouth.
The treasure is hidden in--' At this instant a horrible change came
over his expression; his eyes stared wildly, his jaw dropped, and he
yelled, in a voice which I can never forget, 'Keep him out! For
Christ's sake keep him out!' We both stared round at the window behind
us upon which his gaze was fixed. A face was looking in at us out of
the darkness. We could see the whitening of the nose where it was
pressed against the glass. It was a bearded, hairy face, with wild
cruel eyes and an expression of concentrated malevolence. My brother
and I rushed towards the window, but the man was gone. When we
returned to my father his head had dropped and his pulse had ceased to
beat.

"We searched the garden that night, but found no sign of the intruder,
save that just under the window a single footmark was visible in the
flower-bed. But for that one trace, we might have thought that our
imaginations had conjured up that wild, fierce face. We soon, however,
had another and a more striking proof that there were secret agencies
at work all round us. The window of my father's room was found open in
the morning, his cupboards and boxes had been rifled, and upon his
chest was fixed a torn piece of paper, with the words 'The sign of the
four' scra