Adventure, one of the return of Sherlock Holmes by Sir, Arthur
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dotnet. Adventure 1, the adventure of
the empty house. It was in the spring of the Year
1894 that all London was interested.
And the fashionable world is made by the murder of the
honourable Ronald Adair. Under most unusual and
inexplicable circumstances. The public has already learned
those particulars of the crime which came out in the police
investigation. But a good deal was suppressed
upon that occasion. Since the case for the
prosecution was, so overwhelmingly strong that it
was not necessary to bring forward.
All the facts, only now at the end of nearly 10 years.
Am I allowed to supply those missing links which make up the
whole of that remarkable chain? The crime was of interest in
itself, but that interest was as nothing to me compared to the
inconceivable sequel, which afforded me, the greatest shock,
and surprise of any event in my adventurous life.
Even now, after this long interval.
I find myself thrilling as I think of it and feeling once
more. That sudden flood of Joy,
amazement, and incredulity which utterly submerged my mind.
Let me say to that public. Which is shown some interest in
those glimpses, which I have occasionally given them of the
thoughts and actions of a very remarkable man, that they are
not to blame me if I have not shared my knowledge with them
for I should have considered it my first duty to do.
So, had I not been barred by a positive prohibition, from his
own lips, which was only with drawn upon the third of last
month. It can be imagined that my close
intimacy with Sherlock Holmes, had interested me deeply in
crime. And that after his
disappearance. I never failed to read with
care. The various problems, which came
before the public and I even attempted more than once, for my
own private satisfaction to employ his methods in their
solution though within different success.
There was none, however, which appealed to me, like, this
tragedy of Ronald Adair. As I read the evidence at the
inquest which led up to a verdict of willful murder
against some person or Persons Unknown.
I realized more clearly than I'd ever done the loss, which the
community had sustained by the death of Sherlock Holmes.
There were points about this strange business, which would, I
was sure have specially appealed to him and the efforts of the
police would have In supplemented or more, probably
anticipated by the trained observation and the alert mind
of the first criminal agent in Europe.
All day, as I drove upon my round, I turned over the case in
my mind and found no explanation, which appeared to
me to be adequate. At the risk of telling a twice
told tale, I will recapitulate the facts as they were known to
the public at the conclusion of the inquest.
The honourable Ronald Adair was the Second Son Of The Earl of
Maynooth at that time. Governor of one of the
Australian colonies adair's mother had returned from
Australia to undergo the operation for Cataract.
And she has son, Ronald and her daughter.
Hilda were living together at 427 Park Lane.
The youths moved in the best Society had so far as was known,
no enemies and no particular vices.
He had been engaged to miss Edith, Woodley of Carstairs, but
the engagement had been broken off by Mutual consent some
months before and there was no sign that it had left.
Any very profound feeling behind it for the rest sick.
The man's life moved in a narrow and conventional Circle for his
habits were quiet and his nature and Tional.
If it was upon this easygoing young Aristocrat, that death
came in most strange and unexpected form between the
hours of 10:00 and 11:00 20 on the night of March 30th. 1894.
Ronald Adair was fond of cards playing continually, but never
for such Stakes as would hurt him.
He was a member of the Baldwin, the Cavendish, and the Bagatelle
card clubs. It was shown that after dinner,
on the day of his death. He had played a rubber of whist
at the latter Club. He also played there in the
afternoon, the evidence of those who had played with him.
Mr. Marie. So John Hardy and Colonel Moran,
showed that the game was whisked and that there was a fairly
Equal full of the cards. Had a might have lost five
pounds, but not more. His fortune was a considerable
one and such a loss could not in any way affect him.
He had played nearly every day at one club or other, but he was
a cautious player and usually Rose a winner.
It came out in evidence that in partnership with Colonel Moran.
He had actually won as much as four hundred and twenty pounds
in a sitting some weeks before from Godfrey Milner and Lord
Balmoral so much for his recent history as it came out at the
inquest. On the evening of the crime, he
returned from the club, exactly, at 10 his mother and sister were
out spending the evening with a relation, the servant deposed
that she heard him. Enter the front room on the
second floor. Generally used as his sitting
room. She had lit a fire there and as
its smoked, she had opened a window.
No sound was heard from the room until eleven twenty.
The hour of the return of Lady Maynooth.
And her daughter. Designed to say goodnight.
She attempted to enter her son's room.
The door was locked on the inside, and no answer could be
got to their cries and knocking help was obtained and the door
forced. The unfortunate young man was
found lying near the table. His head had been horribly
mutilated by an expanding revolver bullet, but no weapon
of any sort was to be found in the room on the table.
They to banknotes for 10 pounds. Each and 17 pounds 10 in silver
and gold. The money arranged in little
piles of varying amount. There were some figures also
upon a sheet of paper with the names of some Club friends
opposite to them from, which it was conjectured that before his
death. He was endeavoring to make out
his losses or winnings at cards. A minut examination of the
circumstances. Served only to make the case
more complex in the first place. No reason could be given.
Why the young man should have fastened a door upon the inside.
There was the possibility that the murderer had done this and
at afterwards, escaped by the window, the drop was at least 20
feet, however, and a bed of crocuses in full bloom, lay
beneath neither the flowers nor the Earth showed any sign of
having been Disturbed. No, were there any marks upon
the narrow strip of grass, which separated the house from the
road? Apparently, therefore, it was
the young man himself who had fastened the door, but how did
he come by his death? No one could have climbed up to
the window without leaving traces.
Suppose a man had fired through the window.
He would indeed be a remarkable shot.
Who could with a revolver? Inflicts, so deadly, a wound.
Again, Park Lane is a frequentist thoroughfare.
There's a cab stand within a hundred yards of the house.
No one had heard a shot. And yet there was the dead man,
and there, the revolver bullet, which had mushroomed out as
soft-nosed bullets will. And so inflicted a wound, which
must have caused instantaneous death.
Such with a circumstances of the Park Lane mystery which were
further Complicated by entire absence of motive.
Since, as I have said, young Adair was not known to have any
enemy and no attempt had been made to remove the money or
valuables in the room. All day, I turn these facts over
in my mind. Endeavoring to hit upon some
Theory, which could reconcile them all.
And to find that line of least resistance, which my poor friend
had declared to be the starting point of every investigation.
I confess that I made little progress in the evening.
I strolled across the park and found myself about 6:00 at the
Oxford Street. End of Parklane a group of
loafers upon them. Pavements all staring up at a
The killer window directed me to the house, which I had come to
see a tall thin man with colored glasses whom I strongly
suspected of being a plainclothes.
Detective was pointing out some theory of his own while the
others crowded round to listen to what he said.
I got as near him as I could, but his observations seemed to
me to be absurd. So I withdrew again in some
discussed as I did. So I struck against an elderly
deformed man who had been behind me and I knocked down several
books, which he was carrying. I remember that as I picked them
up. I observe the title of one of
them, the origin of tree worship, and it struck me that
the fellow must be some poor bibliophile.
Who either Trade or as a hobby, was a collector of obscure
volumes. I endeavored to apologize for
the accident, but it was evident that these books which I had.
So unfortunately maltreated were very precious objects in the
eyes of their owner with a snarl of contempt.
He turned upon his heel and I saw his curved back and white
side-whiskers disappear among the throng.
My observations of number 427 Park Lane did little to clear up
the problem in which I was interested.
The house was separated from the street by a low wall and railing
the whole not more than five feet high.
It was perfectly easy therefore for anyone to get into the
garden, but the window is entirely inaccessible since
there was no water-pipe or anything which could help the
most active man to climb it. More puzzled than ever.
I retraced my steps to Kensington.
I had not been in my study five minutes.
When the maid entered to say. There's a person desire to see
me. To my astonishment.
It was none other than my strange old book collector.
He's sharp wizened face peering out from a frame of white hair
and his precious volumes. A dozen of them at least wedged
under his right arm. You're surprised to see me.
Sir. Said he in a strange croaking
voice. I acknowledge that.
I was, well, I have a conscience, sir.
And when I chanced to see you go into this house as I came
hobbling. After you, I thought to myself,
are just step in and see what kind gentleman and tell him that
I've I was a bit Gruff in my manner that there was not any
harm meant and that I'm much obliged to him for picking up my
books. You make too much of a trifle
said I may. I ask how you knew who I was.
Well, sir. It isn't too great, a liberty.
I am a neighbor of yours for you'll find my little book shop
at the corner of Church Street, and very happy to see you.
I am sure, maybe you collect yourself, sir, is British birds
and Catalyst, and The Holy War, a bargain.
Every one of them with five volumes.
You could just fill that Gap. Second shelf.
It looks untidy. Does it not sir?
I move my head to look at the cabinet behind me.
When I turned again, Sherlock Holmes was standing, smiling at
me across my study table. I Rose to my feet, stared at him
for some seconds in utter, amazement.
And then it appears that I must have fainted for the first.
And the last time in my life, certainly a grain Mist swirled
before my eyes. And when it cleared, I found my
collar ends undone and the tingling aftertaste of And the
upon my lips, Holmes, was bending over my chair.
His flask in his hand. My dear Watson said the
well-remembered voice. I owe you a thousand apologies.
I had no idea that you would be so affected.
I gripped. Him by the arms homes.
I cried. Is it really?
You can it indeed be that you are alive.
Is it possible that you succeeded in climbing out of
that? Awful Abyss?
Wait a moment said he are you sure that you're really fits to
discuss things. I have given you a serious Shock
by my unnecessarily. Dramatic reappearance.
I'm alright, but indeed Holmes, I can hardly believe my eyes.
Good Heavens. To think that you you of all men
should be standing in my study. Again, I gripped him by the
sleeve and felt the thin sinewy arm beneath it.
Well, you're not a spirit. Anyhow said, I my dear chap.
I'm Overjoyed to see you, sit down and tell me how you came
alive. Out of that Dreadful kasim.
He sat opposite to me and lit. A cigarette in his old
nonchalant manner. He was dressed in the Seedy
frock-coat of the book Merchant, but the rest of that individual
lay in a pile of white hair and old, Looks upon the table.
Holmes looked even thinner and Keno than of old, but there was
a dead white Tianjin his aquiline face, which told me
that his life recently had not been a healthy one.
I am glad to stretch myself Watson said he it is no joke
when a tall man has to take a foot off his stature for several
hours on end. Now my dear fellow in the matter
of these explanations we have if I may ask for your cooperation a
hard and dangerous night's work in front of us, perhaps it would
be better if I gave you an account of the whole situation.
When that work is finished. I'm full of curiosity.
I should much prefer to hear it. Now.
You'll come with me tonight when you like and where you like.
This is indeed like the old days.
We shall have time for a mouthful of dinner before we
need go. Well, then about that Chasm.
I had no serious difficulty in getting out of it.
For the very simple reason that I never was in it.
You never were in it. No Watson High never was in it.
My note to you was absolutely genuine.
I had little doubt that I had come to the end of my career,
when I perceived the somewhat Sinister figure of the late
professor. Moriarty standing upon the
narrow pathway, which led to safety.
I read an inexorable purpose in his gray eyes.
I exchanged some remarks with him there for and obtained, his
courteous permission. Write a short note, which you
afterwards received. I left it with my cigarette box
and my stick and I walked along the pathway Moriarty's still at
my heels. When I reach the end.
I stood at Bay, he drew no weapon, but he rushed at me and
threw his long arms around me. He knew that his own game was up
and was only anxious to Revenge himself upon me.
We tottered together upon the brink of the Fall.
I have some knowledge. However of Bharat Sue or the
Japanese system of wrestling which has more than one spin.
Very useful to me. I slipped through his grip and
he with a horrible scream, kicked madly for a few seconds
and Claude the air with both his hands, but for all his efforts,
he could not get his balance. And over, he went with my face
over the brink. I saw him fall for a long way.
Then he struck a rock bounded off and splashed into the water.
I listened with amazement to this explanation which Holmes
delivered between the puffs of his cigarette but the tracks Ira
cried. I saw with my own eyes, but to
went down the path and non returned.
It came about in this way. The instant that the professor
had disappeared. It struck me.
What a really extraordinarily lucky chance.
Fate had placed in my way. I knew that Moriarty was not the
only man who had sworn my death. There were at least three others
Whose desire for vengeance upon me would only be increased by
the death of their leader. They were all most dangerous
men, one or other would certainly get me on the other
hand. If all the world was convinced
that I was dead. They would take Liberties these
men, they would soon lay themselves open and sooner or
later. I could destroy them, then it
would be time for me to announce that I was still in the land of
The living. So rapidly does the brain act,
but I believe I had sought this all out before.
Professor, Moriarty had reached the bottom of the Reichenbach
fall. I stood up and examined the
rocky wall behind me in your picturesque account of the
matter, which I read with great interest some months later.
You, assert that the wall was sheer, that was not literally
true, a few small footholds presented themselves.
And there was some indication of a ledge.
The cliff is so high that to climb it all was an obvious
impossibility and it was equally impossible to make any way along
the wet. Pass without leaving some
tracks. I might.
It is true. Have reversed my boots as I have
done on similar occasions, but the site of three sets of tracks
in One Direction, would certainly have suggested a
deception on the whole then it was best that I should risk the
climb. It was not a pleasant business.
Watson, the fall roared beneath me.
I am not a fanciful person, but I give you my word that I seem
to hear more. A Artis voice screaming at me,
out of the Abyss, a mistake would have been fatal more than
one says, Tufts of grass came out in my hand or my foot
slipped in the wet notches of the rock.
I thought that I was gone, but I struggled upward and At Last I
reached a ledge several feet deep and covered with soft green
moss where I could lie unseen in the most perfect Comfort there.
I was stretched when you my dear Watson and You're following,
were investigating in the most sympathetic and inefficient
manner, the circumstances of my death.
At last when you had all formed your inevitable and totally
erroneous conclusions, you departed for the hotel and I was
left alone. I had imagined that I had
reached the end of my Adventures but a very unexpected
occurrence. Show me that there were
surprises still in store for me, a huge Rock falling from above
boomed. Past me, struck the path and
bounded over into the chasm for an instant.
I thought that it was an accident, but a moment later
looking up, I saw a man's head against the darkening sky and
another Stone struck, the very ledge upon, which I was
stretched within a foot of my head.
Of course, the meaning of this was obvious, Moriarty had not
been alone. A Confederate.
And even that one glance at told me, how dangerous a man that
Confederate was had kept guard while the professor had attacked
me from a distance. Unseen by me.
He had been a witness of his friend's death, and of my
Escape, you'd waited. And then making his way around
to the top of the cliff. He had endeavored to succeed,
where his comrade had failed. I did not take long to think
about it Watson again. I saw that Grim face look over
the cliff and I knew that it was the precursor of another Stone.
I scrambled down onto the path. I don't think I could have done
it in Cold Blood. It was 100 times more difficult
than getting up. But I had no time to think of
the danger for another Stone sang pass me as I hung by my
hands from the edge of the ledge.
Halfway down, I slipped. But by the blessing of God, I
landed torn and bleeding upon the path.
I took to my heels did 10 miles over the mountains in the
darkness and a week later. I found myself in Florence with
the certainty that no one in the world knew what had become of
me. I had only one confident my
brother Mycroft. I owe you many apologies, my
dear Watson, but it was all important that it should be
thought I was dead and it is quite certain that you would not
have written. So convincing an account of my
unhappy end. Had you not yourself thought
that it was true several times during the last three years.
I have taken up my pen to write to you.
But always, I feared lest your affectionate regard for me
should tempt you to some indiscretion, which would Trey,
my secret. For that reason, I turned away
from you this evening, when you upset my books for I was in
danger at the time and any show of surprise and emotion upon
your part, might have drawn attention to my identity and led
to the most deplorable and irreparable results as to
Mycroft. I had to confide in him in order
to obtain the money, which I needed the course of events in
London, did not run. So well as I had hoped for the
trial of the Moriarty gang. Left two of its most dangerous
members. My own most vindictive enemies
at Liberty. I traveled for two years in
Tibet, therefore and amuse myself by visiting Larsa and
spending. Some days with the head Lama.
You may have read of the remarkable explorations of a
Norwegian named Sigerson, but I'm sure that it never occurred
to you that you were receiving news of your friend.
I then pass through Persia looked in at Mecca and paid a
short but interesting visit to the Khalifa at Khartoum.
The results of which I have communicated to the foreign
office. Returning to France.
I spent some months in a research into the coal-tar,
derivatives, which I conducted in a laboratory at Montpellier,
in the south of France, having concluded this to my
satisfaction and learning, that only one of my enemies was now
left in London. I was about to return when my
movements were hastened by the news of this.
Very remarkable Park Lane mystery, which not only appealed
to me by its own merits. But Seemed to offer some most
peculiar personal opportunities. I came over at once to London
called in my own person at Baker Street, through mrs.
Hudson into violent hysterics, and found that Mycroft had
preserved my rooms and my papers exactly as they had always been.
So, it was my dear Watson that at 2:00 today.
I found myself in my old armchair in my own old room.
And only wishing that I could have seen my old friend Watson
in the other chair, which he had.
So often adorned. Such was remarkable narrative to
which I listened on that. April evening, a narrative,
which would have been utterly incredible to me.
Had it, not been confirmed by the actual site of the tall,
spare figure, and the Keen eager face, which I had never thought
to see. Again in some manner.
He had learned of my own sad bereavement and his sympathy was
shown in his manner rather than in his words.
Work is the best antidote to sorrow.
My dear Watson said, he and I have a piece of work for us both
tonight, which if we can bring it to a successful conclusion,
will in itself justify a man's life on this planet.
In vain. I begged him to tell me more You
will hear and see enough before morning.
He answered. We have three years of the past
to discuss. Let that suffice until 9:30 when
we start upon the notable adventure of the empty house.
It was indeed like old times when at that hour, I found
myself seated beside him in a handsome.
My Revolver in my pocket and the thrill of Adventure in my heart.
Holmes was cold and Stern and Silent as The Gleam of the
street lamps flashed upon his austere features.
I saw that his brows were drawn down in thought and it's thin
lips compressed. I knew not what wild beasts.
We were about to hunt down in the dark Jungle of criminal
London, but I was well assured from the bearing of this master
Huntsman that the adventure was a most grave one while the
sardonic smile which occasionally broke through his
acetic Gloom boded. Too good for the object of our
Quest. I had imagined that we were
Bound for Baker Street, but Holmes stopped the cab at the
corner of Cavendish Square. I observed, that as he stepped
out. He gave a most searching glance
to right and left and at every subsequent street corner.
He took the utmost pains to assure that he was not followed.
Our route was certainly a singular one, Holmes is
knowledge of the byways of London was extraordinary.
And on this occasion. He passed rapidly and with an
assured step through a network of muse, and Stables, the very
existence of which I had never known.
We emerged at last into a small Road lined with old gloomy
houses, which led us into Manchester Street, and so, to
Blandford Street here, he turned swiftly down a narrow passage.
Postural wooden gate into a deserted yard and then opened
with a key, the back door of a house we entered together and he
closed it behind us. The place was pitch dark, but it
was evident to me that it was an empty house.
Our feet creaked and crackled over the bare planking and my
outstretched hand touched a wall from which the paper was hanging
in ribbons. Homes is cold thin fingers
closed around my wrist and lead me forward down a Long Hall
until I dimly saw, the murky fanlight over the door here,
Holmes turned suddenly to the right and we Found ourselves in
a large Square empty room heavily shadowed in the corners,
but faintly lit in the center from the lights of the street
Beyond there was no lamp near and the window is thick with
dust so that we could only just discern each other's figures.
Within my companion, put his hand upon my shoulder and his
lips close to my ear. Do you know where we are?
He was, but surely that is Baker.
Street. I answered staring through the
dim window. Exactly.
We are in Camden house, which stands opposite to our own old
quarters. But why are we here?
Because it commands? So excellent view of that
picturesque pile. Might I trouble you my dear
Watson to draw a little nearer to the window taking every
precaution not to Show yourself. And then to look up at our old
rooms, the starting point of so many of your little Fairytales.
We will see if my three years of absence have entirely taken away
my power to surprise you. I crept forward and looked
across at The Familiar window, as my eyes fell upon it, I gave
a gasp and a cry of Amazement. The blind was down and a strong
light was burning in the room. The shadow of a man who was
seated in a chair within was thrown in hard.
Black outline upon the Luminous screen of the window.
There was no mistaking, the Poise of the head, the
squareness of the shoulders, the sharpness of the features.
The face was turned half round and the effect was that of one
of those black Silhouettes which our grandparents loved frame.
It was a perfect reproduction of homes.
So amazed was I that I threw out my hand to make sure that the
man himself was standing beside me.
He was quivering with silent laughter.
Well said he good Heavens, I cried.
It is marvelous. I trust that age does not wither
nor custom stale. My infinite.
Variety said he and I recognized in his voice the joy and pride
which the artist takes in his own creation.
It really is rather like me, is it not?
I should be prepared to swear that.
It was you the credit of the execution is due to monsieur,
Oscar Mooney of Grenoble, who spent some days in doing the
molding. It is a bust in wax.
The rest, I arranged myself during my visit to Baker Street,
this afternoon. But why?
Because my dear Watson, I had the strongest possible reason
for wishing certain people to think that I was there when I
was really elsewhere. And you thought the rooms were
watched. I knew that they were watched by
whom by my old enemies Watson by the Charming Society whose
leader lies in the Reichenbach fall.
You must remember that they knew and only they knew that I was
still alive sooner or later. They believe that I should come
back to my rooms. They watched them continuously
and this morning they saw me arrive.
How do you know? Because I recognize their
Sentinel. When I glanced out of my window.
He is a harmless enough fellow Parker by name a gerado by trade
and a remarkable performer upon the Jews.
Harp. I cared nothing for him.
But I cared a great deal for the much more formidable person who
was behind him. The bosom friend of Moriarty,
the man who dropped the Rocks, over the cliff, the most cunning
and dangerous. In London, that is the man who
is after me tonight, Watson. And that is the man who is quite
unaware that we are after him. My friends plans were gradually
revealing themselves from this convenient Retreat.
The Watchers were being watched and The Trackers tracked that
angular Shadow up yonder. Was the bait and we, with a
Hunters. In silence, we stood together in
the darkness and watch the hurrying figures, who passed and
re-passed. In front of us, Holmes was
silent and motionless, but I could tell that he was keenly
alert, and that his eyes were fixed intently upon the stream
of passers-by. It was a bleak and boisterous
night and the wind whistled shrilly Down The Long Street,
many people were moving to and fro, most of them muffled in
their coats and cravats. Once or twice, it seemed to me
that I had seen the same figure before.
And I, especially noticed, two, men who appeared to be
Sheltering themselves from the wind in the doorway of a house,
some distance up the street. I try to draw my companions
attention to them, but he gave a little ejaculation of impatience
and continued to stare into the street, more than once.
He fidgeted with his feet and tapped rapidly with his fingers
upon the wall. It was evident to me that he was
becoming uneasy, and that his plans were not working out all
together as he had hoped. I lost as midnight approached
and the street gradually, cleared, he paced up and down
the room. In uncontrollable agitation.
I was about to make some remark, to him when I raised my eyes to
the lighted window. And again experienced almost as
great as surprised as before. I clutched homes his arm and
pointed upwards. The Shadows moved.
I cried it was indeed no longer the profile but the back which
was turned towards us. Three years had certainly not
smooth, the asperities of his temper or his impatience with a
less active intelligence than his own.
Of course, it has moved said, he am.
I such a fascicle bungler Watson that I should erect an obvious
dummy and expect that some of the sharpest men in Europe will
be deceived by it. We have been in this room, two
hours, and mrs. Hudson has made some change in
that figure eight times or once in every quarter of an hour.
She works it from the front so that her Shadow may never be
seen. Ah, he drew in his breath with a
shrill, excited intake. In the dim light.
I saw his head thrown forward, his whole attitude rigid with
attention outside. The street was absolutely
deserted. Those two men might still be
crouching in the doorway, but I could no longer see them.
All was still and dark. Save, only that brilliant.
Yellow screen in front of us with the black figure outlined
upon its Center. Again, in the utter silence.
I heard that sin sibilant note, which spoke of intense
suppressed excitement. An instant later.
He pulled me back into the blackest corner of the room and
I felt his warning hand upon my lips, the fingers, which
clutched me were quivering, never had I known my friend more
moved and yet the dark Street still stretched lonely and
motionless before us. But suddenly, I was aware of
that, which his Keener senses had already.
Distinguished a low stealthy, sound came to my ears, not from
the direction of Baker Street, but from the back of the very
house in which we lay concealed, a door opened, and shut an
instant later. Steps crept down the passage
steps, which were meant to be silent.
But which reverberated harshly through the empty house.
Holmes, crouched back against the wall and I did the same.
My hand closing upon the handle of My Revolver peering through
the Gloom. I saw the vague outline of a
man, a shade blacker than the Blackness of the open door.
He stood for an instant and then he crept forward crouching
menacing into the room. He was within three yards of us,
this Sinister figure and I had braced myself to meet his spring
before I realized that he had no.
Idea of our presence. He passed close beside us stole
over to the window and very softly and noiselessly, raised
it for half a foot as he sank to the level of this opening, the
light of the street, no longer dimmed.
By the dusty, glass fell full upon his face, the man seemed to
be beside himself with excitement, his two eyes Shone
like stars and his features were working convulsively.
He was an elderly man, with a thin projecting nose, a high
bald forehead, and a huge grizzled, Moustache.
An opera hat was pushed to the back of his head and an evening
dress shirt. Front gleaned out through his
open. Overcoat.
His face was gaunt and swarthy scored with deep Savage lines in
his hand. He carried what appeared to be a
stick. But as he laid it down upon the
floor it gave a metallic clang. Then from the pocket of his
Overcoat. He drew a bulky object and he
busied himself in some tasks which ended with a loud sharp
click as if a spring or bolt had fallen to its place.
Still kneeling upon the floor, he bent forward and through all
his weight and strength, upon some lever with the result that
there came a long, whirling grinding noise ending.
Once more in a powerful click. He straightened himself then,
and I saw that what he held in his hand was a sort of gun with
a curiously misshapen, but He opened it at the breech, but
something in and snapped the breech-lock then crouching down.
He rested the end of the barrel upon the ledge of the open
window and I saw his long Moustache, droop over the stock
and is I glean as it appeared along the sights.
I heard a little sigh of satisfaction as he cuddled the,
but into his shoulder and saw that amazing Target but black
man on the yellow ground standing clear at the end of his
foresight for an instant. He was rigid and motionless.
Then his finger tightened on the trigger.
It was a strange loud Wiz and a long.
Silvery tinkle of broken glass. At that instant Holmes sprang
like a tiger on to the marksman's back and hurled him
flat upon his face. He was up again in a moment and
with a convulsive strength. He seized homes by the throat,
but I struck him on the head with the butt of My Revolver and
he dropped again upon the floor. I fell upon him and as I held in
my comrade blue, a shrill call upon a whistle.
There was the clatter of running feet upon the pavement and two
policemen in uniform with one plain clothes Detective.
Rushed through the front entrance and into the room that
you lestrade said, Holmes. Yes.
Mr. Holmes. I took the job myself.
It's good to see you back in London, sir.
I think you want a little unofficial help, 3, undetected.
Murders in one year won't do lestrade but you handled the
molesey mystery with less than your usual.
That's to say. You handled it fairly.
Well, we had all risen to our feet, our prisoner breathing.
Hard with a stalwart Constable. On each side of him already, a
few loiterers have begun to collect in the street Holmes,
stepped up to the window, closed it, and drop the blinds lestrade
had produced two candles and the policeman had uncovered their
lanterns. I was able at last to have a
good, look at our prisoner. It was a tremendously virile and
yet Sinister face, which was turned towards us.
With the brow of a philosopher above and the jaw of
essentialist below, the man must have started with great
capacities, for good or for evil, but one could not look
upon his cruel. Blue eyes with they're drooping
cynical Lids or upon the fierce aggressive nose and the
threatening, deep blind brow without reading.
Nature's plainest, danger signals.
He took no heed of any of us, but his eyes were fixed upon
Holmes's face with an expression in which, hey, Fruit and
amazement were equally Blended you fiend.
He kept on muttering you clever fiend.
Clever fiend Colonel said, Holmes arranging, his rumpled
collar Journeys end in lovers. Meetings as the old play says, I
don't think I've had the pleasure of seeing you since you
favoured me with those attentions, as I lay on the
ledge above the Reichenbach, fall, the colonel, still stared
at my friend, like a man in a trance, you You cunning cunning
fiend was all that. He could say, I have not
introduced. You yet said Holmes.
This gentleman is Colonel, Sebastian, Moran.
Once of Her Majesty's, Indian army.
And the best heavy game shot that our Eastern Empire has ever
produced. I believe, I am correct colonel
in saying that your bag of tigers Still Remains unrivalled.
The Fierce old man said nothing but still glared at my companion
with his Savage eyes and Sling stache.
He was wonderfully like a tiger himself.
I wonder that my very simple stratagem could deceive.
So older shikari said, Holmes. It must be very familiar to you.
Have you not tethered a young kid Under a Tree Lane, above it
with your rifle and waited for the bait to bring up your tiger.
This empty house is my tree, and you are my tiger.
You have possibly had other guns in reserve.
In case there should be several tigers or in the unlikely
supposition of your own. I'm failing you these he pointed
around, are my other guns. The parallel is exact Colonel
Moran. Sprang forward with a snarl of
Rage but the constables dragged him back, the fury upon his face
was terrible to look at. I confess that you had one small
surprise, for me said Holmes. I did not anticipate that you
would yourself make use of this empty house and this convenient
front window. I had imagined you as operating
from the street where my friend lestrade and his merry men were
awaiting you with that exception all has gone as I expected.
Colonel Moran, turn to the official detective you may, or
may not have just cause for arresting me said he but at
least, there could be no reason why I should submit to the jibes
of this person. If I'm in the hands of the law,
let things be done in a legal way.
Well that's reasonable enough said lestrade nothing further.
You have to say mr. Owns before we go.
Holmes had picked up the powerful air gun from the floor
and was examining its mechanism. An admirable and unique weapon
said he noiseless and of tremendous power.
I knew Von herder, the blind German mechanic who constructed
it to the order of the late professor, Moriarty for years.
I've been aware of its existence.
Now, I have never before had the opportunity of handling it.
I commend it very specially to your attention lestrade and also
the bullets which fitted you can trust us to look after that.
Mr. Holmes said. Drawed as the whole party.
Moved toward the door. Anything further to site.
Only to ask what charge you intend to prefer.
What charge sir? What?
Of course, the attempted murder of mr.
Sherlock Holmes, not so lestrade my do not propose to appear in
the matter at all to you and to, you only belongs the credit of
the remarkable arrest, which you have affected.
Yes. Lestrade, I congratulate you
with your usual. Happy mixture of cunning, and
audacity. You have got him.
Going call mr. Holmes.
The man that the whole Force has been seeking in vain Colonel,
Sebastian Moran, who shot the honourable Ronald Adair with an
expanding bullet from an air gun through the open window of the
second floor? Front of number 427 Park Lane
upon the 30th of last month. That's the charge lestrade and
now Watson. If you can endure the draft from
a broken window, I Half an hour in my study over a cigar May
afford you some profitable amusement.
Our old Chambers have been left, unchanged through the
supervision of Mycroft Holmes and the immediate care of mrs.
Hudson. As I entered, I saw it is true,
an unwanted tidiness, but the old landmarks were all in their
place. There were the chemical corner
and the acid stained deal top table there upon a shelf, was
the row of formidable scrap books and books of reference
which many of our fellow citizens would have been so glad
to burn. The diagrams, the violin case
and the Pipe Rack, even the Persian slipper, which contain
the tobacco, all met my eyes. As I glanced around me.
There were two occupants of the room.
One. Mrs. Hudson, who beamed upon us.
Both as we entered the other, the strange dummy, which had
played so important apart in the evenings Adventures.
It was a wax colored model of my friend.
So admirably done that. It was a perfect facsimile.
It stood on a small pedestal table with an old dressing gown
of homes is so draped around it that the illusion from the
street was absolutely perfect. I hope you observed all
precautions. Mrs. Hudson said Holmes.
I went to all my Nisa. Just did you tell me?
Excellent? You carried the thing out very
well. Did you observe where the bullet
went? Yes, sir.
I'm afraid, a sport, your beautiful bust for it.
Passed right through the head and flattened itself on the
wall. I picked it up from the carpet.
Here. It is Holmes held it out to me
as soft revolver bullet. As you perceive Watson, there's
genius in that for who would expect to find such a thing
fired from an air gun. All right.
Mrs. Hudson. I am much obliged for your
assistance and now Watson, let me see you in your old seat.
Once more for there are several points, which I should like to
discuss. Discuss with you.
He had thrown off the Seedy frock-coat and now he was the
homes of old in the mouse-colored dressing-gown.
Which he took from his effigy. The old shekhar is nerves of not
lost their steadiness, nor his eyes there.
Keenness said he with a laugh. As he inspected the shattered,
forehead of his bust plum in the middle of the back of the head
and smack through the brain. He was the best shot in India
and I expect that there are few better in London.
Have you heard the name? No, I have not.
Well, well such is Fame, but then if I remember, right?
You had not heard the name of Professor James Moriarty.
You are one of the great brains of the century.
Just give me down my index of biographies from the Shelf.
He turned over the pages, lazily leaning back in his chair and
blowing great clouds from his cigar.
My collection of Em's is a fine. One said he Moriarty himself is
enough to make any letter illustrious.
And here is Morgan, the poisoner and married you of abominable
memory and Matthews, who knocked out my left canine in the
waiting room at Charing Cross. And finally, there is our friend
tonight. He handed over the book and I
read Moran. Sebastian, Colonel, unemployed.
Formerly. First Bangalore Pioneers.
Born. London. 1840, son of Caesar
Augustus, Moran. CB once British minister to
Persia educated Eton and Oxford served in Jockey campaign Afghan
campaign, chera see, AB dispatches, share poor and
Cobble author of heavy game of the western Himalayas. 1881
three months in the jungle 1884 address.
Conduit Street clubs, the anglo-indian the tank of ill,
the Bagatelle Card Club. On the module was written, in
homes is precise hand. The second most dangerous man in
London. This is astonishing said, I as I
handed back the volume, the man's career.
Is that of an honorable Soldier? It is true.
Holmes answered up to a certain point, he did.
Well, he was always a man of iron nerve and the story is
still told in India, how he crawled down a drain.
After a wounded man-eating tiger.
There are Some trees Watson which grow to a certain height
and then suddenly develop some unsightly eccentricity.
You will see it often in humans. I have a theory that the
individual represents in his development the whole procession
of his ancestors and that's such a sudden turn to good or evil
stands for some strong influence, which came into the
line of his pedigree. The person becomes as it were
the epitome of the history of his own family.
It is surely rather for fanciful.
Well, I don't insist upon it, whatever, the cause Colonel
Moran began to go wrong without any open Scandal.
He still made India too hot to hold him.
He retired came to London and again, acquired an evil name.
It was at this time that he was sought out by Professor
Moriarty, to whom for a time. He was chief of the staff.
Moriarty supplied him. Liberally with money and used
him only in one or two very high-class.
Jobs, which No, Ordinary criminal could have undertaken.
You may have some recollection of the death of mrs.
Stewart of Lauda in 1887. Not.
Well, I'm sure Moran was at the bottom of it, but nothing could
be proved. So cleverly was the colonel
concealed that even when the Moriarty gang was broken up.
We could not incriminate him. You, remember at that date when
I called upon you in your rooms, how I put up the shutters for
fear of are Ins, no doubt you thought me fanciful.
I knew exactly what I was doing for.
I knew of the existence of this remarkable gun, and I knew also
that one of the best shots in the world will be behind it.
When we were in Switzerland. He followed us with Moriarty and
it was undoubtedly he who gave me that Evil 5 minutes on the
Reichenbach ledge. You may think that I read the
papers with some attention during my sojourn in France, on
the lookout for any chance of laying him by the heels.
So long as he was free in London.
My life would really not have been worth living night and day.
The shadow would have been over me and sooner or later his
chance, must have come. What could I do?
I could not shoot him at sight or I should myself be in the
dock. There was no use of peeling to a
magistrate. They Interfere on the strength
of what would appear to them to be a wild suspicion.
So I could do nothing but I watched the criminal news
knowing that sooner or later. I should get him.
Then, came the death of this. Ronald Adair.
My chance had come at last knowing what I did was it not
certain that Colonel Moran had done it.
He had played cards with the lad.
He had followed him home from the club.
He had shot him through the open.
And, oh, there was not a doubt of it.
The bullets alone are enough to put his head in a noose.
I came over at once. I was seen by The Sentinel, who
would I knew direct the Colonel's attention to my
presence. He could not fail to connect my
sudden return with his crime and to be terribly alarmed.
I was sure that he would make an attempt to get me out of the way
at once and would bring round his murderous weapon for that.
Purpose, I left him an excellent Mark in the window and having
warned the police that they might be needed.
By the way. Watson, you spotted their
presence in that doorway with unerring accuracy.
I took up what seemed to me to be a judicious post for
observation. Never dreaming that, he would
choose the same spot for his attack.
Now, my dear Watson, there's anything remained for me to
explain Yes said I you've not made it clear.
What was Colonel Moran's motive in murdering the honourable?
Ronald Adair. Ah, my dear Watson there, we
come into those Realms of conjecture where the most
logical mind may be at fault. Each may form his own hypothesis
upon the present evidence and yours is as likely to be correct
as mine. You have formed one.
Then I think that it is not difficult to explain the facts.
It came out in evidence that Colonel Moran and young Adair
had between them when a considerable amount of money.
Now, Moran undoubtedly played foul of that.
I'm long been aware. I believe that on the day of the
murder had discovered that Moran was cheating, very likely he had
spoken to him privately and had threatened to expose him unless
he Terally. Resigned his membership of the
club and promised not to play cards again.
It is unlikely that a youngster like a dare would at once.
Make a hideous Scandal by exposing a well-known, man.
So much older than himself. Probably.
He acted. As I suggest the exclusion from
his clubs would mean ruined to Moran who lived by his
ill-gotten card gains. He therefore murder.
Dad are who at the time was endeavoring to work out how Much
money. He should himself return since
he could not profit by his Partners Foul Play.
He locked the door. Lest.
The ladies should surprise him and insist upon knowing what he
was doing with these names and coins.
Will it pass? I have no doubt that you have
hit upon the truth. It will be verified or disproved
at the trial. Meanwhile come what may Colonel
Moran will trouble us? No more.
The famous are gonna van header, will embellish the Scotland Yard
Museum. And once again, mr.
Sherlock Holmes is free to devote his life to examining
those interesting little problems, which the complex life
of London so plentifully presents.
End of the empty house.