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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Sign of the Four"

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-colored 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.


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