CHAPTER 12
THE STRANGE STORY OF JONATHAN SMALL
A VERY PATIENT MAN WAS THAT INSPECTOR IN THE CAB, FOR IT WAS A WEARY time before I rejoined him. His face clouded over when I showed him the empty box.
“There goes the reward!” said he gloomily. “Where there is no money there is no pay. This night’s work would have been worth a tenner each to Sam Brown and me if the treasure had been there.”
“Mr. Thaddeus Sholto is a rich man,” I said; “he will see that you are rewarded, treasure or no.”
The inspector shook his head despondently, however.
“It’s a bad job,” he repeated; “and so Mr. Athelney Jones will think.”
His forecast proved to be correct, for the detective looked blank enough when I got to Baker Street and showed him the empty box. They had only just arrived, Holmes, the prisoner,
