But for that one trace, we might have thought that our imaginations had conjured up that wild, fierce face.

We soon, however, had another and a more striking proof that there were secret agencies at work all round us.

The window of my father's room was found open in the morning, his cupboards and boxes had been rifled, and upon his chest was fixed a torn piece of paper, with the words 'The sign of the four' scrawled across it.

What the phrase meant, or who our secret visitor may have been, we never knew.

As far as we can judge, none of my father's property had been actually stolen, though everything had been turned out.