4-4) The Sign of Four

4.4 The Sign of Four

ABOUT WRITER

Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle (22 May 1859 – 7 July 1930) was a British writer, who created the character Sherlock Holmes. Originally a physician, in 1887, he published A Study in Scarlet, the first of four novels and more than fifty short stories about Holmes and Dr. Watson. The Sherlock Holmes stories are generally considered milestones (मैलाच दगड) in the field of crime fiction. Doyle was a prolific writer; other than Holmes stories, his works include fantasy (काल्पनिक) and science fiction stories about Professor Challenger and humorous stories about the Napoleonic soldier Brigadier Gerard, as well as plays, romances, poetry, non-fiction and historical novels. One of Doyle’s early short stories, ‘J. Habakuk Jephson’s Statement’, helped to popularise the mystery of the Mary Celeste. The Sign of Four is the second novel of Arthur Conan Doyle in which Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson solve the mystery of the hidden treasure and murder.

Major Characters

 Sherlock Holmes

 John Watson

 Mary Morstan

 Major Sholto

 Thaddeus Sholto

 Tonga

 Toby

Outline of the Novel

The novel begins with Holmes and

Dr. Watson engaged in a discussion when

Mary Morstan, a young woman, who

desires Holmes’ advice, soon visits the two

at their place. During the meeting, Mary

tells that after her father disappeared under

mysterious circumstances some ten years

ago; she began receiving a large pearl (मोती) in

the mail on the same day of every year. She

tells that she has received a letter instructing

her to go, with the accompaniment of two

friends, to Lyceum Theatre. The letter gives

a hint that some injustice has been done to

her. Holmes and Watson agree to accompany

Mary. Soon Watson and Mary are attracted

to one another.When the three are heading to the

Lyceum Theatre, Holmes, Watson, and

Mary, they are whisked away (लांब ठेवणे) in a

darkened carriage to a strange house. Within, they find

an eccentric gentleman named Thaddeus

Sholto. He reveals that not only has Mary’s

father died, but also she is partial heir (वारस) to a great hidden treasure.

Thaddeus goes on to

explain that his father always lived in fear

of men with wooden legs, and on occasion

struck out at perfect strangers who were so

handicapped. On his deathbed, the elder

Sholto revealed to his sons the existence

of the treasure, but just before he could tell

them where it was, the face of a bearded

man appeared in the window, and the old

man suffered a fatal heart attack.

The next morning, a note was found

affixed to the body: it read “Sign of Four”.

Thaddeus proceeds to explain that after

searching for years for the treasure, his

brother Bartholomew discovered it in a

hidden attack in the family house. On his

deathbed, the brothers’ father made them

swear they would share the treasure with

Mary Morstan, who has some unknown

claim in the fortune. Thaddeus concludes (निष्कष) by entreating the three to accompany him to the family estate where they will divide up the fortune.

When they arrived at the family estate,

the three find a shaken (घाबरलेला) housekeeper who claims that Bartholomew

has not emerged from his locked room

all day.

Holmes and Watson peer through the keyhole of the room

and find an unnatural grinning face leering

at them. Breaking down the door, they find

the body of Bartholomew, a poisoned thorn

lodged (गुतलेला)in his neck. After investigating for some time, Holmes concludes that two

persons, one of whom had a wooden leg,

committed the crime. According to Holmes,

the second person was an especially

interesting individual. It also becomes

apparent that the murderers have stolen the

Agra treasure.

One of Holmes’ deductions reveals that

the wooden-legged man stepped in creosote

during his escape. Following up on this

lead, Holmes and Watson borrow a dog to

follow the scent. Their search leads them

to the edge of the Thames, where it is clear

the two criminals hired a boat. Over the next

few days, Holmes recruits (भरती) his “Baker Street

Irregulars,” a gang of street urchins, to search

the river for the boat. When these efforts fail,

Holmes, in disguise, makes a search himself,

and discovers that the boat–the Aurora–has

been camouflaged.

That night, Holmes, Watson, and several

officers pursue the Aurora in a police barge(होडी) .

They gradually overtake the boat, which

contains a wooden-legged captain and a small

pygmy native from the Andaman Islands.

The native attempts to shoot Holmes with a

blowpipe, and is consequently shot down by

both Holmes and Watson. The Aurora runs a

ground and the wooden-legged man becomes

entrapped in the mud; subsequently, he is

captured.

The wooden-legged man, whose name

is Jonathan Small, is brought back to Baker

Street, along with an iron box, which was

found on the boat. Captain Small proceeds

to relay the story of the Agra treasure, which

began when he was stationed as a fortress

gatekeeper in India. Small explains that he

was approached by three Arab guards and

offered a share in a great fortune if he would

help them murder the man who carried it.

Small agreed. When the man, an emissary (दूत)

from a wealthy Sheik,(शेख) arrived, the three

Arabs murdered the man as Small blocked

his escape. The four conspirators (कटात सहभागी) hid the treasure, but soon after,

were arrested for the murder of the emissary.

Small was sent to a penal colony on the

Andaman Islands, where he managed to

befriend a native, Tonga, who became his

loyal companion. Small bribed two of the

guards on the island, Sholto and Morstan (Mary’s father), into helping him escape

in exchange for a share in the fortune. The

two agreed, and Sholto left to bring back the

treasure. After some time, it became apparent

(समजणे) to Small that Sholto had betrayed him, and

he escaped from the island with Tonga.

After many years, Small had tracked down(पाठलाग) Sholto, and arrived just in time to see him die.

After the death, Small affixed(चिटकावणे) the note that was found on the body, as a reference to himself and his three Arab companions.

When he returned to the Sholto estate, Tonga

murdered Bartholomew and the two stole the

treasure.

Small concludes his narrative by

revealing that in the course of the chase on

the Thames, he threw the treasure overboard.

Small is taken to prison, and Watson, who

has come to love Mary Morstan, proposes to

her.

Theme of the novel :

The theme of the novel revolves around the Agra treasure. Throughout the story, the appearance of the treasure leads to a direct and often tragic change in the lives of the characters. Because of this, it is important that the removal of the treasure would cause the characters to return to their previous position. In the case of Small, a convict (दोषी) , the re-emergence (उदय) of the treasure leads him down a path that ends in murder; with the removal of the treasure, he is a prisoner once again. Mary Morstan is a charming young woman whom Watson contemplates(मनन) marrying. With the prospect of Mary becoming an heiress (वारस) , however, this possibility is removed. When it is discovered that the Agra treasure is gone, Mary returns to a position in which Watson can comfortably propose marriage. The shallowness of wealth and the destruction that can come through it is also seen prevailing throughout the novel. As the Agra treasure directly and adversely affects (प्रतिकूल परिणाम) almost everyone. In the course of the story, the Sheik’s emissary and Bartholomew are both murdered for the treasure, Tonga is killed while fleeing (पळून जाताना ) with it, and Small is sentenced to life imprisonment. Additionally, both Thaddeus and his father spent their lives constantly paranoid(वेडा) about wooden legged men, and about strangers in general. The Agra treasure even provides a “romantic conflict” for Dr. Watson, who feels that he cannot marry Miss Morstan for fear that he will appear to be after her money.

PLOT OF THE NOVEL

The novel has a complex plot involving

service in India, the Indian Rebellion (बंड) of

1857, a stolen treasure, and a secret pact

among four convicts (दोषी) (‘the Four’ of the title)

and two corrupt prison guards.

According to Mary, in December 1878,

her father had telegraphed her upon his safe

return from India and requested her to meet

him at the Langham Hotel in London. When

Mary arrived at the hotel, she was told that

her father had gone out the previous night

and not returned. Despite all efforts, no trace

was ever found of him. Mary contacted her

father’s only friend, Major John Sholto who

was in the same regiment lived in England.

But he denied knowing her father had returned.

The second puzzle is that she has received

six pearls in the mail from an anonymous

benefactor,(उपकार कर्ता) one per year since 1882 after

answering an anonymous newspaper query

inquiring for her. With the last pearl she

received a letter remarking that she has been

wronged and asking for a meeting. Holmes

takes the case and soon discovers that Major

Sholto had died in 1882 and that within a

short span of time Mary began to receive the

pearls, implying (सूचित ) a connection. The only clue

Mary can give Holmes is a map of a fortress

found in her father’s desk with the names of

Jonathan Small, Mahomet Singh, Abdullah

Khan and Dost Akbar.

Holmes, Watson, and Mary meet

Thaddeus Sholto, the son of the late Major

Sholto and the anonymous sender of the

pearls. Thaddeus confirms the Major had

seen Mary’s father the night he died; they

had arranged a meeting to divide a priceless

treasure Sholto had brought home from India.

While quarrelling over the treasure, Captain

Morstan—long in weak health—suffered a

heart attack. Not wanting to bring attention

to the object of the quarrel—and also worried

that circumstances would suggest that he had

killed Morstan in an argument, particularly

since Morstan’s head struck the corner of the

chest as he fell—Sholto disposed of the body

and hid the treasure. However, he himself

suffered from poor health and an enlarged

spleen(मलेरिया (possibly due to malaria, as a quinine(औषध)

bottle stands by his bed). His own health

became worse when he received a letter from

India in early 1882. Dying, he called his

two sons and confessed to Morstan’s death

and was about to divulge (उघड )the location of the

treasure when he suddenly cried, “Keep him

out!” before falling back and dying. The

puzzled sons glimpsed a face in the window,

but the only trace was a single footstep in the

dirt. On their father’s body is a note reading

“The Sign of the Four”. Both brothers

quarrelled over whether a legacy should be

left to Mary Morstan, and Thaddeus left his

brother Bartholomew, taking a chaplet and

sending its pearls to Mary. The reason he sent

the letter is that Bartholomew has found the

treasure and possibly Thaddeus and Mary

might confront(सामना) him for a division of it.

Bartholomew is found dead in his

home from a poison dart and the treasure

is missing. While the police wrongly take

Thaddeus in as a suspect, Holmes deduces

that there are two persons involved in the

murder: a one-legged man, Jonathan Small,

as well as another “small” accomplice(साथीदार). He

traces them to a boat landing where Small

has hired a steam launch named the Aurora.

With the help of dog Toby that he sends

Watson to collect from Mr. Sherman, the

Baker Street Irregulars and his own disguise,

Holmes traces the steam launch. In a police

steam launch Holmes and Watson chase the

Aurora and capture it, but in the process end

up killing the “small” companion after he

attempts to kill Holmes with a poisoned dart

shot from a blow-pipe. Small tries to escape

but is captured. However, the iron treasure

box is empty; Small claims to have dumped (टाकणे)

the treasure over the side during the chase.

Small confesses that years before he

was a soldier of the Third Buffs in India and

lost his right leg in a swimming accident to

a crocodile. After some time, when he was

an overseer (पर्या वेक्षक) on a tea plantation, the Indian

Rebellion of 1857 occurred and he was forced

to flee for his life to the Agra fortress. While

standing guard one night he was overpowered

by two Sikh troopers(सैनिक) , who gave him a choice

of being killed or being an accomplice to

waylaying (पा ळत) a disguised(वेशां त र) servant of a Rajah

who sent the servant with a valuable

fortune in pearls and jewels to the British

for safekeeping. The robbery and murder

took place and the crime was discovered,

although the jewels were not. Small got penal

servitude (सक्त मजुरी शिक्षा ) on the Andaman Islands and, after

20 years, he overheard that John Sholto had

lost much money gambling and cannot even

sell his commission; therefore, he will have

to resign. Small saw his chance and made a

deal with Sholto and Arthur Morstan: Sholto

would recover the treasure and in return send

a boat to pick up Small and the Sikhs. Sholto

double-crossed both Morstan and Small and

stole the treasure for himself-after inheriting

a fortune from his uncle. Small vowed

vengeance and four years later escaped the

Andaman Islands with an islander named

Tonga after they both killed a prison guard.

It was the news of his escape that shocked

Sholto into his fatal illness. Small arrived

too late to hear of the treasure’s location, but

left the note which referred to the name of

the pact between himself and his three Sikh

accomplices. When Bartholomew found the

treasure, Small planned to only steal it, but

claims a miscommunication led Tonga to

kill Bartholomew as well. Small claims the

Agra treasure brought nothing but bad luck

to anyone who came in touch with it—the

servant who was murdered; Sholto living with

fear and guilt; and now he himself is trapped

in slavery for life—half his life building a

breakwater(बंधारा) in the Andaman Islands and the

rest of his life digging drains (जाणे )in Dartmoor

Prison.

Mary Morstan is left without the bulk

of the Agra treasure, although she will

apparently receive the rest of the chaplet.

John Watson falls in love with Mary and it

is revealed at the end that he proposed to her

and she has accepted.

SYNOPSIS OF THE EXTRACT

Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes were

discussing on general issues when they

were interrupted by the arrival of Ms. Mary

Morstan, who has a case for Sherlock to

solve. Mary tells about her father’s sudden

disappearance on a trip many years ago.

A few years later, an advertisement was

published in a newspaper asking for her

address, which she gave, and ever since then,

on the same day of each year, she received a

rare and expensive pearl. This continued for

some more years but today, she received a

letter asking to meet her. The letter warned

Mary not to bring the police with her. Mary

requests Holmes and Watson to accompany

her to place so that they can figure out the

secret behind it. Both agree to accompany

her. Sherlock recommends Dr. Watson to

read Winwood Reade’s book ‘Martyrdom of

Man’ and leaves the room in search of some

references and facts that are essential for the

case. After returning from his investigation,

Sherlock shares his findings with Watson.

He believes that the death of Major Sholto,

Mary’s father’s only friend in London, has

something to do with the mysterious pearls

she has been receiving every year. Sherlock

believed that the Sholto’s heir(वारस) knows that

Mary has been wronged in some way, and

may be seeking to rectify (सुधारणा) the problem. Later

Mary arrives at Baker Street as planned.

Both Sherlock and Watson accompany her

to the appointment with the mysterious letter

writer. Mary has brought a paper of her

father’s with her which she wasn’t been able

to decipher;(अर्थ लावणे) she felt that the paper might be

pertinent to the case in some way. It might

help Holmes to decode the mystery and find

the disappearance of her father. Sherlock

examines the letter and puts it away for

safe-keeping. He, Watson, and Mary go to

the meeting; there, a person asks them any

of them are police officers, which they deny.

The person, who is apparently a servant

of the person they are meeting, then drives

them in carriage. The trio arrives in a ‘less

fashionable’ part of London, aka a more

rundown, working class neighbourhood.

They are escorted (सोबत) inside a house by a servant.

The Sign of Four

Chapter II

The Statement of the Case

Miss Morstan entered the room with

a firm step and an outward composure

of manner. She was a young lady, small,

dainty, well gloved, and dressed in the

most perfect taste. There was, however,

a plainness and simplicity about her

costume which bore with it a suggestion

of limited means. The dress was a sombre

grayish beige, untrimmed and unbraided,

and she wore a small turban of the same

dull hue, relieved only by a suspicion of

white feather in the side.

Her face had neither regularity of

feature nor beauty of complexion, but her

expression was sweet and amiable, and her

large blue eyes were singularly spiritual

and sympathetic. In an experience of

women which extends over many nations

and three separate continents, I have

never looked upon a face which gave a

clearer promise of a refined and sensitive

nature. I could not but observe that as

she took the seat which Sherlock Holmes

placed for her, her lip trembled, her hand

quivered, and she showed every sign of

intense inward agitation.

“I have come to you, Mr. Holmes,”

she said, “because you once enabled my

employer, Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to unravel

a little domestic complication. She was

much impressed by your kindness and

skill.”

“Mrs. Cecil Forrester,” he repeated

thoughtfully. “I believe that I was of some

slight service to her. The case, however,

as I remember it, was a very simple one.”

“She did not think so. But at least you

cannot say the same of mine. I can hardly

imagine anything more strange, more

utterly inexplicable, than the situation in

which I find myself.”

Holmes rubbed his hands, and his

eyes glistened. He leaned forward in his

chair with an expression of extraordinary

concentration upon his clear-cut, hawk-

like features. “State your case,” said he,

in brisk, business tones.

I felt that my position was an

embarrassing one. “You will, I am sure,

excuse me,” I said, rising from my chair.

To my surprise, the young lady held

up her gloved hand to detain me. “If your

friend,” she said, “would be good enough

to stop, he might be of inestimable service

to me.” I relapsed into my chair.

“Briefly,” she continued, “the facts

are these. My father was an officer in

an Indian regiment who sent me home

when I was quite a child. My mother was

dead, and I had no relative in England.

I was placed, however, in a comfortable

boarding establishment at Edinburgh,

and there I remained until I was seventeen

years of age. In the year 1878 my father,

who was senior captain of his regiment,

obtained twelve months’ leave and

came home. He telegraphed to me from

London that he had arrived all safe,

and directed me to come down at once,

giving the Langham Hotel as his address.

His message, as I remember, was full of

kindness and love. On reaching London I

drove to the Langham, and was informed

that Captain Morstan was staying there,

but that he had gone out the night before

and had not yet returned. I waited all

day without news of him. That night, on

the advice of the manager of the hotel, I

communicated with the police, and next

morning we advertised in all the papers

Our inquiries led to no result; and from that

day to this no word has ever been heard

of my unfortunate father. He came home

with his heart full of hope, to find some

peace, some comfort, and instead—” She

put her hand to her throat, and a choking

sob cut short the sentence.

“The date?” asked Holmes, opening

his note-book. “He disappeared upon the

3rd of December, 1878. —nearly ten years

ago. “His luggage?” “Remained at the

hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest

a clue,-some clothes, some books, and a

considerable number of curiosities from

the Andaman Islands. He had been one

of the officers in charge of the convict-

guard there.”

“Had he any friends in town?”

“Only one that we know of,—Major

Sholto, of his own regiment, the 34th

Bombay Infantry. The major had retired

some little time before, and lived at Upper

Norwood. We communicated with him, of

course, but he did not even know that his

brother officer was in England.”

“A singular case,” remarked Holmes.

“I have not yet described to you the

most singular part. About six years ago—

to be exact, upon the 4th of May, 1882—

an advertisement appeared in the Times

asking for the address of Miss Mary

Morstan and stating that it would be to

her advantage to come forward. There

was no name or address appended. I

had at that time just entered the family

of Mrs. Cecil Forrester in the capacity of

governess. By her advice I published my

address in the advertisement column. The

same day there arrived through the post

a small card-board box addressed to me,

which I found to contain a very large and

lustrous pearl. No word of writing was

enclosed. Since then every year upon the

same date there has always appeared a

similar box, containing a similar pearl,

without any clue as to the sender. They

have been pronounced by an expert to

be of a rare variety and of considerable

value. You can see for yourselves that

they are very handsome.” She opened a

flat box as she spoke, and showed me six

of the finest pearls that I had ever seen.

“Your statement is most interesting,”

said Sherlock Holmes. “Has anything

else occurred to you?”

“Yes and no later than to-day. That

is why I have come to you. This morning

I received this letter, which you will

perhaps read for yourself.”

“Thank you,” said Holmes. “The

envelope too, please. Postmark, London,

S.W. Date, July 7. Hum! Man’s thumb-

mark on corner—probably postman. Best

quality paper. Envelopes at six pence a

packet.Particular man in his stationery.

No address. ‘Be at the third pillar from the

left outside the Lyceum Theatre to-night

at seven o’clock. If you are distrustful,

bring two friends. You are a wronged

woman, and shall have justice. Do not

bring police. If you do, all will be in vain.

Your unknown friend.’ Well, really, this is

a very pretty little mystery. What do you

intend to do, Miss Morstan?”

“That is exactly what I want to ask

you.” “Then we shall most certainly go.

You and I and—yes, why, Dr. Watson

is the very man. Your correspondent

says two friends. He and I have worked

together before.”

“But would he come?” she asked,

with something appealing in her voice

and expression. “I should be proud and

happy,” said I, fervently, “if I can be of

any service.” “ You are both very kind,”

she answered. “I have led a retired life,

and have no friends whom I could appeal

to. If I am here at six it will do, I suppose?”

“You must not be later,” said Holmes.

“There is one other point, however. Is this

handwriting the same as that upon the

pearl-box addresses?”

“I have them here,” she answered,

producing half a dozen pieces of paper.

“You are certainly a model client. You

have the correct intuition. Let us see, now.”

He spread out the papers upon the table,

and gave little darting glances from one

to the other. “They are disguised hands,

except the letter,” he said, presently,

“but there can be no question as to the

authorship. See how the irrepressible

Greeke will break out, and see the twirl

of the finals. They are undoubtedly by the

same person. I should not like to suggest

false hopes, Miss Morstan, but is there

any resemblance between this hand and

that of your father?”

“Nothing could be more unlike.”

“I expected to hear you say so. We

shall look out for you, then, at six. Please

allow me to keep the papers. I may look

into the matter before then. It is only half-

past three. Au revoir, then.”

“Au revoir,” said our visitor, and,

with a bright, kindly glance from one to

the other of us, she replaced her pearl-box

in her bosom and hurried away. Standing

at the window, I watched her walking

briskly down the street, until the gray

turban and white feather were but a speck

in the sombre crowd.

“What a very attractive woman!” I

exclaimed, turning to my companion. He

had lit his pipe again, and was leaning

back with drooping eyelids. “Is she?” he

said, languidly. “I did not observe.”

“You really are an automaton,—a

calculating-machine!” I cried. “There

is something positively inhuman in

you at times.” He smiled gently. “It is

of the first importance,” he said, “not

to allow your judgment to be biased by

personal qualities. A client is to me a

mere unit,—a factor in a problem. The

emotional qualities are antagonistic to

clear reasoning. I assure you that the

most winning woman I ever knew was

hanged for poisoning three little children

for their insurance-money, and the most

repellant man of my acquaintance is

a philanthropist who has spent nearly a

quarter of a million upon the London poor.”

“In this case, however—”

“I never make exceptions. An

exception disproves the rule. Have you

ever had occasion to study character in

handwriting? What do you make of this

fellow’s scribble?”

“It is legible and regular,” I answered.

“A man of business habits and some force

of character.”

Holmes shook his head. “Look at his

long letters,” he said. “They hardly rise

above the common herd. That d might be

an a, and that l an e. Men of character

always differentiate their long letters,

however illegibly they may write. There

is vacillation in his k’s and self-esteem in

his capitals. I am going out now. I have

some few references to make. Let me

recommend this book, one of the most

remarkable ever penned. It is Winwood

Reade’s ‘Martyrdom of Man.’ I shall be

back in an hour.”

I sat in the window with the volume

in my hand, but my thoughts were far from

the daring speculations of the writer.

My mind ran upon our late visitor, —her

smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice,

the strange mystery which overhung her

life. If she were seventeen at the time of

her father’s disappearance she must be

seven-and-twenty now,—a sweet age,

when youth has lost its self-consciousness

and become a little sobered by experience.

So I sat and mused, until such dangerous

thoughts came into my head that I hurried

away to my desk and plunged furiously

into the latest treatise upon pathology.

What was I, an army surgeon with a

weak leg and a weaker banking-account

that I should dare to think of such things?

She was a unit, a factor,—nothing more.

If my future were black, it was better

surely to face it like a man than to attempt

to brighten it by mere will-o’-the-wisps of

the imagination.

Chapter III

In Quest of a Solution

It was half-past five before Holmes

returned. He was bright, eager, and in

excellent spirits,—a mood which in his

case alternated with fits of the blackest

depression.

“There is no great mystery in this

matter,” he said, taking the cup of tea

which I had poured out for him. “The facts

appear to admit of only one explanation.”

“What! you have solved it already?”

“Well, that would be too much to say.

I have discovered a suggestive fact, that

is all. It is, however, very suggestive. The

details are still to be added. I have just

found, on consulting the back files of

the Times, that Major Sholto, of Upper

Norword, late of the 34th Bombay

Infantry, died upon the 28th of April,

1882.”

“I may be very obtuse, Holmes, but I

fail to see what this suggests.”

“No? You surprise me. Look at

it in this way, then. Captain Morstan

disappears. The only person in London

whom he could have visited is Major

Sholto. Major Sholto denies having heard

that he was in London. Four years later

Sholto dies. Within a week of his death

Captain Morstan’s daughter receives a

valuable present, which is repeated from

year to year, and now culminates in a letter

which describes her as a wronged woman.

What wrong can it refer to except this

deprivation of her father? And why should

the presents begin immediately after

Sholto’s death, unless it is that Sholto’s

heir knows something of the mystery and

desires to make compensation? Have you

any alternative theory which will meet

the facts?”

“But what a strange compensation!

And how strangely made! Why, too,

should he write a letter now, rather than

six years ago? Again, the letter speaks

of giving her justice. What justice can

she have? It is too much to suppose that

her father is still alive. There is no other

injustice in her case that you know of.”

“There are difficulties; there are

certainly difficulties,” said Sherlock

Holmes, pensively. “But our expedition

of to-night will solve them all. Ah, here

is a four-wheeler, and Miss Morstan is

inside. Are you all ready? Then we had

better go down, for it is a little past the

hour.”

I picked up my hat and my heaviest

stick, but I observed that Holmes took

his revolver from his drawer and slipped

it into his pocket. It was clear that he

thought that our night’s work might be a

serious one.

Miss Morstan was muffled in a

dark cloak, and her sensitive face was

composed, but pale. She must have been

more than woman if she did not feel

some uneasiness at the strange enterprise

upon which we were embarking, yet her

self-control was perfect, and she readily

answered the few additional questions

which Sherlock Holmes put to her.

“Major Sholto was a very particular

friend of papa’s,” she said. “His letters

were full of allusions to the major. He and

papa were in command of the troops at the

Andaman Islands, so they were thrown a

great deal together. By the way, a curious

paper was found in papa’s desk which

no one could understand. I don’t suppose

that it is of the slightest importance, but

I thought you might care to see it, so I

brought it with me. It is here.”

Holmes unfolded the paper carefully

and smoothed it out upon his knee. He

then very methodically examined it all

over with his double lens.

“It is paper of native Indian

manufacture,” he remarked. “It has at

some time been pinned to a board. The

diagram upon it appears to be a plan of

part of a large building with numerous

halls, corridors, and passages. At one

point is a small cross done in red ink,

and above it is ‘3.37 from left,’ in faded

pencil-writing. In the left-hand corner is a

curious hieroglyphic like four crosses in

a line with their arms touching.

Beside it is written, in very rough

and coarse characters, ‘The sign of the

four,—Jonathan Small, Mahomet Singh,

Abdullah Khan, Dost Akbar.’ No, I confess

that I do not see how this bears upon the

matter. Yet it is evidently a document of

importance. It has been kept carefully in

a pocket-book; for the one side is as clean

as the other.”

“It was in his pocket-book that we

found it.”

“Preserve it carefully, then, Miss

Morstan, for it may prove to be of use

to us. I begin to suspect that this matter

may turn out to be much deeper and more

subtle than I at first supposed. I must

reconsider my ideas.” He leaned back in

the cab, and I could see by his drawn brow

and his vacant eye that he was thinking

intently. Miss Morstan and I chatted in an

undertone about our present expedition

and its possible outcome, but our

companion maintained his impenetrable

reserve until the end of our journey.

It was a September evening, and not

yet seven o’clock, but the day had been

a dreary one, and a dense drizzly fog lay

low upon the great city. Mud-coloured

clouds drooped sadly over the muddy

streets. Down the Strand the lamps were

but misty splotches of diffused light

which threw a feeble circular glimmer

upon the slimy pavement. The yellow

glare from the shop-windows streamed

out into the steamy, vaporous air, and

threw a murky, shifting radiance across

the crowded thoroughfare. There was,

to my mind, something eerie and ghost-

like in the endless procession of faces

which flitted across these narrow bars of

light,—sad faces and glad, haggard and

merry. Like all human kind, they flitted

from the gloom into the light, and so

back into the gloom once more. I am not

subject to impressions, but the dull, heavy

evening, with the strange business upon

which we were engaged, combined to

make me nervous and depressed. I could

see from Miss Morstan’s manner that

she was suffering from the same feeling.

Holmes alone could rise superior to petty

influences.

He held his open note-book upon his

knee, and from time to time he jotted

down figures and memoranda in the light

of his pocket-lantern.

At the Lyceum Theatre the crowds

were already thick at the side-entrances.

In front a continuous stream of hansoms

and four-wheelers were rattling up,

discharging their cargoes of shirt-fronted

men and beshawled, bediamonded

women. We had hardly reached the third

pillar, which was our rendezvous, before

a small, dark, brisk man in the dress of a

coachman accosted us.

“Are you the parties who come with

Miss Morstan?” he asked.

“I am Miss Morstan, and these two

gentlemen are my friends,” said she.

He bent a pair of wonderfully

penetrating and questioning eyes upon us.

“You will excuse me, miss,” he said with

a certain dogged manner, “but I was to

ask you to give me your word that neither

of your companions is a police-officer.”

“I give you my word on that,” she

answered.

He gave a shrill whistle, on which

a street Arab led across a four-wheeler

and opened the door. The man who had

addressed us mounted to the box, while

we took our places inside. We had hardly

done so before the driver whipped up his

horse, and we plunged away at a furious

pace through the foggy streets.

The situation was a curious one. We

were driving to an unknown place, on an

unknown errand. Yet our invitation was

either a complete hoax,—which was an

inconceivable hypothesis,—or else we

had good reason to think that important

issues might hang upon our journey. Miss

Morstan’s demeanour was as resolute

and collected as ever. I endeavoured to

cheer and amuse her by reminiscences

of my adventures in Afghanistan; but,

to tell the truth, I was myself so excited

at our situation and so curious as to our

destination that my stories were slightly

involved. To this day she declares that I

told her one moving anecdote as to how a

musket looked into my tent at the dead of

night, and how I fired a double-barrelled

tiger cub at it. At first I had some idea as

to the direction in which we were driving;

but soon, what with our pace, the fog, and

my own limited knowledge of London, I

lost my bearings, and knew nothing, save

that we seemed to be going a very long

way. Sherlock Holmes was never at fault,

however, and he muttered the names as

the cab rattled through squares and in and

out by tortuous by-streets.

“Rochester Row,” said he. “Now

Vincent Square. Now we come out on the

Vauxhall Bridge Road. We are making for

the Surrey side, apparently. Yes, I thought

so. Now we are on the bridge. You can

catch glimpses of the river.”

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 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 door-way 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.”

- Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle

unbraided: untied

quivered: trembled or shook

lustrous: shining

Au revoir: good bye (in French)

obtuse: slow to understand

pensively: reflecting deeply

hieroglyphic: incomprehensible or difficult to

understand

eerie: strange and frightening

hansoms: a horse-drawn cabs

rendezvous: a meeting at an agreed time and

place (in French)

reminiscences: a story told about past event

remembered by the narrator

labyrinth: a maze, a complicated irregular

network of passages or paths in which it is

difficult to find one’s way

khitmutgar: a male servant

BRAINSTORMING

CHARACTER

(A1) (i) Read the extract again and complete the web by highlighting the qualities

of the following characters:

Dr. Watson Sherlock

Holmes

Mary Morstan

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PLOT

(A2) (i) Arrange the sentences in correct sequence as per their occurrence in the

extract.

Jumbled Incidents Correct Sequence

(1) Holmes put a revolver in his pocket.

(2) Holmes gave Winwood’s book

‘Martydom of Man’ to Dr. Watson.

(3) Mary received a large and lustrous pearl

through the post.

(4) Mary’s father was an officer in an Indian

regiment.

(5) Mary Morstan was a well-dressed young

lady.

(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

(e)

(ii) Discuss the importance of the following statements from the light of the

extract.

a. The trio-Holmes, Dr. Watson and Mary decide to visit Lyceum Theatre.

b. Mary received Pearls every year on the same day.

c. Holmes carefully examined the paper given by Mary.

SETTING

(A3) (i) Cite various references (lines) from the extract that tell us about the time

and period of the events.

Lines Time and Period

(v) Describe in brief the importance of the following places in the extract.

(a) London (d) Agra

(b) Lyceum Theatre (e) Andaman Islands

(vi) Complete:

Which places/cities in India and England are mentioned/have appeared in

the extract? Also write about their importance.

India Importance London Importance

Statement Reason/s

(a) Miss Morstan plans to meet Sherlock Holmes

…………

(b) Miss Morstan gives the reference of Mrs. Cecil

Forrester ………

(d) Holmes needed some references ………

(e) Miss Morstan received a pearl every year

………

(f) The coachman confirmed that neither of Miss

Morstan’s companion was a police officer LANGUAGE

(A5) (i) Elaborate the following lines in the light of the novel/extract,

"The Sign of Four"-

(a) "You really are an automation- a calculating machine"

(b) "The letter speaks of giving her justice. What justice can she have?"

(ii) Following are some dialogues of the major characters in the extract. Find
out who the speaker is, his/her tone, style, significance, etc. of the dialogue.

Dialogue Speaker To whom it

is said

Tone, Style,

Significance

etc.

“….you have once enabled my

employer, Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to

unravel a little domestic complication.

She was much impressed by your

kindness and skill.”

“You will, I am sure, excuse me.”

“Your statement is most interesting.

Has anything else occurred to you?”

“Are you the parties who come with

Miss Morstan?”

“The Sahib awaits you.”

💢💢💢💢💢

Character sketch of the novel sign of four

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