“And beyond.”

Hobart held up his hands.

“It is almost too much to believe.  We have made a discovery.  We must watch our step.  We must not lose.  The work of Dr. Holcomb shall not go for nothing.”

“And the ring?”

He consulted his watch.

“We have only a short time left.  We must map our action.  We have three things to work on—­the ring, the house, Bertha Holcomb.  It’s all up to you, Harry.  Find out all that is possible; but go slow.  Trace down that ring; find out everything that you can.  Go and see Bertha Holcomb.  Perhaps she can give you some data.  Watson said no; but perhaps you may uncover it.  Take the ring to a lapidary; but don’t let him cut it.  Last of all, and most important, buy the house of the Blind Spot.  Draw on me.  Let me pay half, anyway.”

“I shall move into it,” I answered.

He hesitated a bit.

“I am afraid of that,” he answered.  “Well, if you wish.  Only be careful.  Remember I shall return just as soon as I can get loose.  If you feel yourself slipping or anything happens, send me a cable.”

The hours passed all too quickly.  When day came we had our breakfast and hurried down to the pier.  It was hard to have him go.  His last words were like Hobart Fenton.  He repeated the warning.

“Watch your step, Harry; watch your step.  Take things easy; be cautious.  Get the house.  Trace down the ring.  Be sure of yourself.  Keep me informed.  If you need me, cable.  I’ll come if I have to swim.”

His last words; and not a year ago.  It seems now like a lifetime.  As I stood upon the pier and watched the ship slipping into the water, I felt it coming upon me.  It had grown steadily, a gloom and oppression not to be thwarted; it is silent and subtle and past defining—­like shadow.  The grey, heavy heave of the water; the great hull of the steamer backing into the bay; the gloom of the fog bank.  A few uncertain lines, the shrill of the siren, the mist settling; I was alone.  It was isolation.

I had been warned by Watson.  But I had not guessed.  At the moment I sensed it.  It was the beginning.  Out of my heart I could feel it—­solitude.

In the great and populous city I was to be alone, in all its teeming life I was to be a stranger.  It has been almost a year—­a year!  It has been a lifetime.  A breaking down of life!

I have waited and fought and sought to conquer.  One cannot fight against shadow.  It is merciless and inexorable.  There are secrets that may be locked forever.  It was my duty, my pledge to Watson, what I owed to the professor.  I have hung on grimly; what the end will be I do not know.  I have cabled for Fenton.

XII

A DEAL IN PROPERTY

But to return.  There was work that I should do—­much work if I was going after the solution.  In the first place, there was the house.  I turned my back to the waterfront and entered the city.  The streets were packed, the commerce of man jostled and threaded along the highways; there was life and action, hope, ambition.  It was what I had loved so well.  Yet now it was different.