“Only that I insist upon your dining with us. It will be ready inhalf an hour. I have oysters and a brace of grouse， with somethinga little choice in white wines. —Watson， you have never yetrecognized my merits as a housekeeper.”
The End of the Islander
Our meal was a merry one. Holmes coud talk exceedingly wellwhen he chose， and that night he did choose. He appeared to be ina state of nervous exaltation. I have never known him so brilliant.
He spoke on a quick succession of subjects—on miracle plays，on medieval pottery， on Stradivarius violins， on the Buddhismof Ceylon， and on the warships of the future—handling eachas though he had made a special study of it. His bright humormarked the reaction from his black depression of the precedingdays. Athelney Jones proved to be a sociable soul in his hours ofrelaxation and faced his dinner with the air of a bon vivant. Formyself， I felt elated at the thought that we were nearing the endof our task， and I caught something of Holmes’s gaiety. None of usalluded during dinner to the cause which had brought us together.
When the cloth was cleared Holmes glanced at his watch andfilled up three glasses with port.
“One bumper，” said he， “to the success of our little expedition.
And now it is high time we were off. Have you a pistol， Watson？”
“I have my old service-revolver in my desk.”
“You had best take it， then. It is well to be prepared. I see thatthe cab is at the door. I ordered it for half-past six.”
It was a little past seven before we reached the Westminsterwharf and found our launch awaiting us. Holmes eyed it critically.
“Is there anything to mark it as a police-boat？”
“Yes， that green lamp at the side.”
“Then take it off.”
The small change was made， we stepped on board， and the ropeswere cast off. Jones， Holmes， and I sat in the stern. There was oneman at the rudder， one to tend the engines， and two burly policeinspectorsforward.
“Where to？” asked Jones.
“To the Tower. Tell them to stop opposite to Jacobson’s Yard.”
Our craft was evidently a very fast one. We shot past the longlines of loaded barges as though they were stationary. Holmessmiled with satisfaction as we overhauled a river steamer and lefther behind us.
“We ought to be able to catch anything on the river，” he said.
“Well， hardly that. But there are not many launches to beat us.”
“We shall have to catch the Aurora， and she has a name forbeing a clipper. I will tell you how the land lies， Watson. Yourecollect how annoyed I was at being balked by so small a thing？”
“Yes.”
“Well， I gave my mind a thorough rest by plunging into achemical analysis. One of our greatest statesmen has said that achange of work is the best rest. So it is. When I had succeeded indissolving the hydrocarbon which I was at work at， I came backto our problem of the Sholtos， and thought the whole matter outagain. My boys had been up the river and down the river withoutresult. The launch was not at any landing-stage or wharf， nor hadit returned. Yet it could hardly have been scuttled to hide theirtraces， though that always remained as a possible hypothesis if allelse failed. I knew that this man Small had a certain degree of lowcunning， but I did not think him capable of anything in the natureof delicate finesse. That is usually a product of higher education.
I then reflected that since he had certainly been in London sometime—as we had evidence that he maintained a continual watchover Pondicherry Lodge—he could hardly leave at a moment’snotice， but would need some little time， if it were only a day， toarrange his affairs. That was the balance of probability， at any rate.”
“It seems to me to be a little weak，” said I； “It is more probablethat he had arranged his affairs before ever he set out upon hisexpedition.”
“No， I hardly think so. This lair of his would be too valuable aretreat in case of need for him to give it up until he was sure thathe could do without it. But a second consideration struck me.
Jonathan Small must have felt that the peculiar appearance of hiscompanion， however much he may have top-coated him， wouldgive rise to gossip， and possibly be associated with this Norwoodtragedy. He was quite sharp enough to see that. They had startedfrom their headquarters under cover of darkness， and he wouldwish to get back before it was broad light. Now， it was past threeo’clock， according to Mrs. Smith， when they got the boat. Itwould be quite bright， and people would be about in an hour orso. Therefore， I argued， they did not go very far. They paid Smithwell to hold his tongue， reserved his launch for the final escape，and hurried to their lodgings with the treasure-box. In a couple ofnights， when they had time to see what view the papers took， andwhether there was any suspicion， they would make their way undercover of darkness to some ship at Gravesend or in the Downs，where no doubt they had already arranged for passages to Americaor the Colonies.”
“But the launch？ They could not have taken that to theirlodgings.”
“Quite so. I argued that the launch must be no great way off， inspite of its invisibility. I then put myself in the place of Small andlooked at it as a man of his capacity would. He would probablyconsider that to send back the launch or to keep it at a wharfwould make pursuit easy if the police did happen to get on histrack. How， then， could he conceal the launch and yet have her athand when wanted？ I wondered what I should do myself if I werein his shoes. I could only think of one way of doing it. I might landthe launch over to some boat-builder or repairer， with directionsto make a trifling change in her. She would then be removed to hisshed or yard， and so be effectually concealed， while at the sametime I could have her at a few hours’ notice.”
