“It’s a bad job,” he repeated; “and so Mr. Athelney Jones willthink.”
His forecast proved to be correct, for the detective looked blankenough when I got to Baker Street and showed him the emptybox. They had only just arrived, Holmes, the prisoner, and he, forthey had changed their plans so far as to report themselves at astation upon the way. My companion lounged in his armchair withhis usual listless expression, while Small sat stolidly opposite tohim with his wooden leg cocked over his sound one. As I exhibitedthe empty box he leaned back in his chair and laughed aloud.
“This is your doing, Small,” said Athelney Jones angrily.
“Yes, I have put it away where you shall never lay hand upon it,”
he cried exultantly. “It is my treasure, and if I can’t have the lootI’ll take darned good care that no one else does. I tell you that noliving man has any right to it, unless it is three men who are in theAndaman convict-barracks and myself. I know now that I cannothave the use of it, and I know that they cannot. I have acted allthrough for them as much as for myself. It’s been the sign of fourwith us always. Well, I know that they would have had me do justwhat I have done, and throw the treasure into the Thames ratherthan let it go to kith or kin of Sholto or of Morstan. It was not tomake them rich that we did for Achmet. You’ll find the treasurewhere the key is and where little Tonga is. When I saw that yourlaunch must catch us, I put the loot away in a safe place. There areno rupees for you this journey.”
“You are deceiving us, Small,” said Athelney Jones sternly; “Ifyou had wished to throw the treasure into the Thames it wouldhave been easier for you to have thrown box and all.”
“Easier for me to throw and easier for you to recover,” heanswered with a shrewd, side-long look. “The man that was cleverenough to hunt me down is clever enough to pick an iron boxfrom the bottom of a river. Now that they are scattered over fivemiles or so, it may be a harder job. It went to my heart to do it,though. I was half mad when you came up with us. However,there’s no good grieving over it. I’ve had ups in my life, and I’vehad downs, but I’ve learned not to cry over spilled milk.”
“This is a very serious matter, Small,” said the detective. “If youhad helped justice, instead of thwarting it in this way, you wouldhave had a better chance at your trial.”
“Justice!” snarled the ex-convict. “A pretty justice! Whoseloot is this, if it is not ours? Where is the justice that I shouldgive it up to those who have never earned it? Look how I haveearned it! Twenty long years in that fever-ridden swamp, all day atwork under the mangrove-tree, all night chained up in the filthyconvict-huts, bitten by mosquitoes, racked with ague, bullied byevery cursed black-faced policeman who loved to take it out of awhite man. That was how I earned the Agra treasure, and you talkto me of justice because I cannot bear to feel that I have paid thisprice only that another may enjoy it! I would rather swing a scoreof times, or have one of Tonga’s darts in my hide, than live in aconvict’s cell and feel that another man is at his ease in a palacewith the money that should be mine.”
Small had dropped his mask of stoicism, and all this came outin a wild whirl of words, while his eyes blazed, and the handcuffsclanked together with the impassioned movement of his hands.
I could understand, as I saw the fury and the passion of the man,that it was no groundless or unnatural terror which had possessedMajor Sholto when he first learned that the injured convict wasupon his track.
“You forget that we know nothing of all this,” said Holmesquietly. “We have not heard your story, and we cannot tell how farjustice may originally have been on your side.”
“Well, sir, you have been very fair-spoken to me, though I cansee that I have you to thank that I have these bracelets uponmy wrists. Still, I bear no grudge for that. It is all fair and above-board. If you want to hear my story, I have no wish to hold it back.
What I say to you is God’s truth, every word of it. Thank you, youcan put the glass beside me here, and I’ll put my lips to it if I amdry.
“I am a Worcestershire man myself, born near Pershore. I daresay you would find a heap of Smalls living there now if you wereto look. I have often thought of taking a look round there, butthe truth is that I was never much of a credit to the family, andI doubt if they would be so very glad to see me. They were allsteady, chapel-going folk, small farmers, well known and respectedover the countryside, while I was always a bit of a rover. At last,however, when I was about eighteen, I gave them no more trouble,for I got into a mess over a girl and could only get out of it againby taking the queen’s shilling and joining the 3d Buffs, which wasjust starting for India.
“I wasn’t destined to do much soldiering, however. I had just gotpast the goose-step and learned to handle my musket, when I wasfool enough to go swimming in the Ganges. Luckily for me, mycompany sergeant, John Holder, was in the water at the same time,and he was one of the finest swimmers in the service. A crocodiletook me just as I was halfway across, and nipped off my right leg asclean as a surgeon could have done it, just above the knee. Whatwith the shock and the loss of blood, I fainted, and should havebeen drowned if Holder had not caught hold of me and paddledfor the bank. I was five months in hospital over it, and when atlast I was able to limp out of it with this timber toe strapped tomy stump, I found myself invalided out of the army and unfittedfor any active occupation.
“I was, as you can imagine, pretty down on my luck at this time,for I was a useless cripple, though not yet in my twentieth year.
However, my misfortune soon proved to be a blessing in disguise.