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- Артур Конан Дойл
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We
did
indeed
get
a
fleeting
view
of
a
stretch
of
the
Thames
with
the
lamps
shining
upon
the
broad
,
silent
water
;
but
our
cab
dashed
on
,
and
was
soon
involved
in
a
labyrinth
of
streets
upon
the
other
side
.
“
Wordsworth
Road
,
”
said
my
companion
.
“
Priory
Road
.
Lark
Hall
Lane
.
Stockwell
Place
.
Robert
Street
.
Cold
Harbor
Lane
.
Our
quest
does
not
appear
to
take
us
to
very
fashionable
regions
.
”
We
had
,
indeed
,
reached
a
questionable
and
forbidding
neighbourhood
.
Long
lines
of
dull
brick
houses
were
only
relieved
by
the
coarse
glare
and
tawdry
brilliancy
of
public
houses
at
the
corner
.
Then
came
rows
of
two
-
storied
villas
each
with
a
fronting
of
miniature
garden
,
and
then
again
interminable
lines
of
new
staring
brick
buildings
,
—
the
monster
tentacles
which
the
giant
city
was
throwing
out
into
the
country
.
At
last
the
cab
drew
up
at
the
third
house
in
a
new
terrace
.
None
of
the
other
houses
were
inhabited
,
and
that
at
which
we
stopped
was
as
dark
as
its
neighbours
,
save
for
a
single
glimmer
in
the
kitchen
window
On
our
knocking
,
however
,
the
door
was
instantly
thrown
open
by
a
Hindoo
servant
clad
in
a
yellow
turban
,
white
loose
-
fitting
clothes
,
and
a
yellow
sash
.
There
was
something
strangely
incongruous
in
this
Oriental
figure
framed
in
the
commonplace
doorway
of
a
third
-
rate
suburban
dwelling
-
house
.
“
The
Sahib
awaits
you
,
”
said
he
,
and
even
as
he
spoke
there
came
a
high
piping
voice
from
some
inner
room
.
“
Show
them
in
to
me
,
khitmutgar
,
”
it
cried
.
“
Show
them
straight
in
to
me
.
”
We
followed
the
Indian
down
a
sordid
and
common
passage
,
ill
-
lit
and
worse
furnished
,
until
he
came
to
a
door
upon
the
right
,
which
he
threw
open
.
A
blaze
of
yellow
light
streamed
out
upon
us
,
and
in
the
centre
of
the
glare
there
stood
a
small
man
with
a
very
high
head
,
a
bristle
of
red
hair
all
round
the
fringe
of
it
,
and
a
bald
,
shining
scalp
which
shot
out
from
among
it
like
a
mountain
-
peak
from
fir
-
trees
.
He
writhed
his
hands
together
as
he
stood
,
and
his
features
were
in
a
perpetual
jerk
,
now
smiling
,
now
scowling
,
but
never
for
an
instant
in
repose
.
Nature
had
given
him
a
pendulous
lip
,
and
a
too
visible
line
of
yellow
and
irregular
teeth
,
which
he
strove
feebly
to
conceal
by
constantly
passing
his
hand
over
the
lower
part
of
his
face
.
In
spite
of
his
obtrusive
baldness
,
he
gave
the
impression
of
youth
.
In
point
of
fact
he
had
just
turned
his
thirtieth
year
.
“
Your
servant
,
Miss
Morstan
,
”
he
kept
repeating
,
in
a
thin
,
high
voice
.
“
Your
servant
,
gentlemen
.
Pray
step
into
my
little
sanctum
.
A
small
place
,
miss
,
but
furnished
to
my
own
liking
.
An
oasis
of
art
in
the
howling
desert
of
South
London
.
”
We
were
all
astonished
by
the
appearance
of
the
apartment
into
which
he
invited
us
.
In
that
sorry
house
it
looked
as
out
of
place
as
a
diamond
of
the
first
water
in
a
setting
of
brass
.
The
richest
and
glossiest
of
curtains
and
tapestries
draped
the
walls
,
looped
back
here
and
there
to
expose
some
richly
-
mounted
painting
or
Oriental
vase
.
The
carpet
was
of
amber
-
and
-
black
,
so
soft
and
so
thick
that
the
foot
sank
pleasantly
into
it
,
as
into
a
bed
of
moss
.
Two
great
tiger
-
skins
thrown
athwart
it
increased
the
suggestion
of
Eastern
luxury
,
as
did
a
huge
hookah
which
stood
upon
a
mat
in
the
corner
.
A
lamp
in
the
fashion
of
a
silver
dove
was
hung
from
an
almost
invisible
golden
wire
in
the
centre
of
the
room
.
As
it
burned
it
filled
the
air
with
a
subtle
and
aromatic
odour
.
“
Mr
.
Thaddeus
Sholto
,
”
said
the
little
man
,
still
jerking
and
smiling
.
“
That
is
my
name
.
You
are
Miss
Morstan
,
of
course
.
And
these
gentlemen
—
”
