XII. The Strange Story of Jonathan Small

           Averypatientmanwasthatinspectorinthecab,foritwasawearytimebeforeIrejoinedhim.HisfacecloudedoverwhenIshowedhimtheemptybox.

           “Theregoesthereward!”saidhe,gloomily.“Wherethereisnomoneythereisnopay.Thisnight’sworkwouldhavebeenworthatennereachtoSamBrownandmeifthetreasurehadbeenthere.”

           “Mr.ThaddeusSholtoisarichman,”Isaid.“Hewillseethatyouarerewarded,treasureorno.”

           Theinspectorshookhisheaddespondently,however.“It’sabadjob,”herepeated;“andsoMr.AthelneyJoneswillthink.”

           Hisforecastprovedtobecorrect,forthedetectivelookedblankenoughwhenIgottoBakerStreetandshowedhimtheemptybox.Theyhadonlyjustarrived,Holmes,theprisoner,andhe,fortheyhadchangedtheirplanssofarastoreportthemselvesatastationupontheway.Mycompanionloungedinhisarm-chairwithhisusuallistlessexpression,whileSmallsatstolidlyoppositetohimwithhiswoodenlegcockedoverhissoundone.AsIexhibitedtheemptyboxheleanedbackinhischairandlaughedaloud.

           “Thisisyourdoing,Small,”saidAthelneyJones,angrily.

           “Yes,Ihaveputitawaywhereyoushallneverlayhanduponit,”hecried,exultantly.“Itismytreasure;andifIcan’thavethelootI’lltakedarnedgoodcarethatnooneelsedoes.Itellyouthatnolivingmanhasanyrighttoit,unlessitisthreemenwhoareintheAndamanconvict-barracksandmyself.IknownowthatIcannothavetheuseofit,andIknowthattheycannot.Ihaveactedallthroughforthemasmuchasformyself.