She was clearly no mere paid dependant but an honoured friend.
I was introduced, and Mrs. Forrester earnestly begged me to step
in and tell her our adventures. I explained, however, the impor-
tance of my errand and promised faithfully to call and report any
progress which we might make with the case. As we drove away
I stole a glance back, and I still seem to see that little group on
the step -- the two graceful, clinging figures, the half-opened
door, the hall-light shining through stained glass, the barometer,
and the bright stair-rods. It was soothing to catch even that
passing glimpse of a tranquil English home in the midst of the
wild, dark business which had absorbed us.
And the more I thought of what had happened, the wilder and
darker it grew. I reviewed the whole extraordinary sequence of
events as I rattled on through the silent, gas-lit streets. There was
the original problem: that at least was pretty clear now. The
death of Captain Morstan, the sending of the pearls, the adver-
tisement, the letter -- we had had light upon all those events.
They had only led us, however, to a deeper and far more tragic
mystery. The Indian treasure, the curious plan found among
Morstan's baggage, the strange scene at Major Sholto's death,
the rediscovery of the treasure immediately followed by the
murder of the discoverer, the very singular accompaniments to
the crime, the footsteps, the remarkable weapons, the words upon
the card, corresponding with those upon Captain Morstan's chart --
here was indeed a labyrinth in which a man less singularly
endowed than my fellow-lodger might well despair of ever find-
ing the clue.
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