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THE SIGN OF FOUR.
In the light of the lantern I read, with a thrill of horror, 'The sign of the four.'
'In God's name, what does it all mean?' I asked.
'It means murder,' said he, stooping over the dead man. 'Ah! I expected it. Look here!'
He pointed to what looked like a long dark thorn stuck in the skin just above the ear.
'It looks like a thorn,' said I.
'It is a thorn. You may pick it out. But be careful, for it is poisoned.'
I took it up between my finger and thumb. It came away from the skin so readily that hardly any mark was left behind. One tiny speck of blood showed where the puncture had been.
'This is all an insoluble mystery to me,' said I. 'It grows darker instead of clearer.'
'On the contrary,' he answered, 'it clears
