The light shone out afar;

       It guided home the plunging² boats

         That beat from Zanzibar.

       Spirit of Fire, where'er Thy altars rise.

         Thou art Light of Guidance to our eyes!

 

                             Salsette Boat-Song.

There is hope for a man who gets publicly and riotously³ drunk more often that he ought to do; but there is no hope for the man who drinks secretly and alone in his own house—the man who is never seen to drink.

 

This is a rule; so there must be an exception to prove it. Moriarty's case was that exception.

 

He was a Civil Engineer, and the Government, very kindly⁴, put him quite by himself in an out-district, with nobody but natives to talk to and a great deal of work to do. He did his work well in the four years he was utterly⁵ alone; but he picked up the vice⁶ of secret and solitary⁷ drinking, and came up out of the wilderness⁸ more old and worn and haggard than the dead-alive life had any right to make him. You know the saying that a man who has been alone in the jungle for more than a year is never quite sane⁹ all his life after. People credited Moriarty's queerness of manner and moody¹⁰ ways to the

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