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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Sign of the Four"

He was
gaining on the Sikh, and I could see that if he once passed me
and got to the open air he would save himself yet. My heart
softened to him, but again the thought of his treasure turned me
hard and bitter. I cast my firelock between his legs as he raced
past, and he rolled twice over like a shot rabbit. Ere he could
stagger to his feet the Sikh was upon him, and buried his knife
twice in his side. The man never uttered moan nor moved muscle,
but lay were he had fallen. I think myself that he may have
broken his neck with the fall. You see, gentlemen, that I am
keeping my promise. I am telling you every work of the business
just exactly as it happened, whether it is in my favor or not."
He stopped, and held out his manacled hands for the whiskey-and-
water which Holmes had brewed for him. For myself, I confess
that I had now conceived the utmost horror of the man, not only
for this cold-blooded business in which he had been concerned,
but even more for the somewhat flippant and careless way in which
he narrated it. Whatever punishment was in store for him, I felt
that he might expect no sympathy from me. Sherlock Holmes and
Jones sat with their hands upon their knees, deeply interested in
the story, but with the same disgust written upon their faces.


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