“You see， Watson， if all else fails me， I have still one of thescientific professions open to me，” said Holmes， laughing. “Ourfriend won’t keep us out in the cold now， I am sure.”
“In you come， sir， in you come—you and your friends，” heanswered. “Very sorry， Mr. Thaddeus， but orders are very strict.
Had to be certain of your friends before I let them in.”
Inside， a gravel path wound through desolate grounds to a hugeclump of a house， square and prosaic， all plunged in shadow savewhere a moonbeam struck one corner and glimmered in a garretwindow. The vast size of the building， with its gloom and itsdeathly silence， struck a chill to the heart. Even Thaddeus Sholtoseemed ill at ease， and the lantern quivered and rattled in hishand.
“I cannot understand it，” he said. “There must be some mistake.
I distinctly told Bartholomew that we should be here， and yetthere is no light in his window. I do not know what to make of it.”
“Does he always guard the premises in this way？” asked Holmes.
“Yes； he has followed my father’s custom. He was the favoriteson you know， and I sometimes think that my father may have toldhim more than he ever told me. That is Bartholomew’s window upthere where the moonshine strikes. It is quite bright， but there isno light from within， I think.”
“None，” said Holmes. “But I see the glint of a light in that littlewindow beside the door.”
“Ah， that is the housekeeper’s room. That is where old Mrs.
Bernstone sits. She can tell us all about it. But perhaps you wouldnot mind waiting here for a minute or two， for if we all go intogether， and she has had no word of our coming， she may bealarmed. But hush！ what is that？”
He held up the lantern， and his hand shook until the circles oflight flickered and wavered all round us. Miss Morstan seized mywrist， and we all stood with thumping hearts， straining our ears.
From the great black house there sounded through the silentnight the saddest and most pitiful of sounds—the shrill， brokenwhimpering of a frightened woman.
“It is Mrs. Bernstone，” said Sholto. “She is the only woman in thehouse. Wait here. I shall be back in a moment.”
He hurried for the door， and knocked in his peculiar way. Wecould see a tall old woman admit him and sway with pleasure at thevery sight of him.
“Oh， Mr. Thaddeus， sir， I am so glad you have come！ I am soglad you have come， Mr. Thaddeus， sir！”
We heard her reiterated rejoicings until the door was closed andher voice died away into a muffled monotone.
Our guide had left us the lantern. Holmes swung it slowly roundand peered keenly at the house and at the great rubbish-heapswhich cumbered the grounds. Miss Morstan and I stood together，and her hand was in mine. A wondrous subtle thing is love， forhere were we two， who had never seen each other before that day，between whom no word or even look of affection had ever passed，and yet now in an hour of trouble our hands instinctively soughtfor each other. I have marvelled at it since， but at the time itseemed the most natural thing that I should go out to her so， and，as she has often told me， there was in her also the instinct to turnto me for comfort and protection. So we stood hand in hand liketwo children， and there was peace in our hearts for all the darkthings that surrounded us.
“What a strange place！” she said， looking round.
“It looks as though all the moles in England had been let loosein it. I have seen something of the sort on the side of a hill nearBallarat， where the prospectors had been at work.”
“And from the same cause，” said Holmes. “These are the tracesof the treasure-seekers. You must remember that they were sixyears looking for it. No wonder that the grounds look like a gravelpit.”
At that moment the door of the house burst open， and ThaddeusSholto came running out， with his hands thrown forward andterror in his eyes.
“There is something amiss with Bartholomew！” he cried. “I amfrightened！ My nerves cannot stand it.”
He was， indeed， half blubbering with fear， and his twitching，feeble face peeping out from the great Astrakhan collar had thehelpless appealing expression of a terrified child.
“Come into the house，” said Holmes in his crisp， firm way.
“Yes， do！” pleaded Thaddeus Sholto. “I really do not feel equalto giving directions.”
We all followed him into the housekeeper’s room， which stoodupon the lefthand side of the passage. The old woman was pacingup and down with a scared look and restless， picking fingers， butthe sight of Miss Morstan appeared to have a soothing effect uponher.
“God bless your sweet， calm face！” she cried with an hystericalsob. “It does me good to see you. Oh， but I have been sorely triedthis day！”
Our companion patted her thin， work-worn hand and murmuredsome few words of kindly womanly comfort which brought thecolor back into the others bloodless cheeks.
“Master has locked himself in and will not answer me，” sheexplained. “All day I have waited to hear from him， for he oftenlikes to be alone； but an hour ago I feared that something wasamiss， so I went up and peeped through the keyhole. You must goup， Mr. Thaddeus—you must go up and look for yourself. I haveseen Mr. Bartholomew Sholto in joy and in sorrow for ten longyears， but I never saw him with such a face on him as that.”
Sherlock Holmes took the lamp and led the way， for ThaddeusSholto’s teeth were chattering in his head. So shaken was he that Ihad to pass my hand under his arm as we went up the stairs， for hisknees were trembling under him. Twice as we ascended， Holmeswhipped his lens out of his pocket and carefully examined markswhich appeared to me to be mere shapeless smudges of dust uponthe cocoanut-matting which served as a stair-carpet. He walkedslowly from step to step， holding the lamplow， and shooting keenglances to right and left. Miss Morstan had remained behind withthe frightened housekeeper.
