"You'll come with me to-night?"
"When you like and where you like."
"This is indeed like the old days. We shall have time for a mouthful ofdinner before we need go. Well, then, about that chasm. I had no seriousdifficulty in getting out of it, for the very simple reason that I neverwas in it."
"You never were in it?"
"No, Watson, I 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 Iperceived the somewhat sinister figure of the late Professor Moriartystanding upon the narrow pathway which led to safety. I read aninexorable purpose in his grey eyes. I exchanged some remarks with him,therefore, and obtained his courteous permission to write the short notewhich you afterwards received. I left it with my cigarette-box and mystick and I walked along the pathway, Moriarty still at my heels. WhenI reached the end I stood at bay. He drew no weapon, but he rushed at meand threw his long arms around me. He knew that his own game was up, andwas only anxious to revenge himself upon me. We tottered together uponthe brink of the fall. I have some knowledge, however, of baritsu, orthe Japanese system of wrestling, which has more than once been veryuseful to me. I slipped through his grip, and he with a horrible screamkicked madly for a few seconds and clawed 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 hestruck a rock, bounded off, and splashed into the water."
I listened with amazement to this explanation, which Holmes deliveredbetween the puffs of his cigarette.
"But the tracks!" I cried. "I saw with my own eyes that two went downthe path and none returned."
"It came about in this way. The instant that the Professor haddisappeared it struck me what a really extraordinarily lucky chance Fatehad placed in my way. I knew that Moriarty was not the only man whohad sworn my death. There were at least three others whose desire forvengeance 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 theywould take liberties, these men, they would lay themselves open, andsooner or later I could destroy them. Then it would be time for me toannounce that I was still in the land of the living. So rapidly doesthe brain act that I believe I had thought this all out before ProfessorMoriarty had reached the bottom of the Reichenbach Fall.
"I stood up and examined the rocky wall behind me. In your picturesqueaccount of the matter, which I read with great interest some monthslater, you assert that the wall was sheer. This was not literallytrue. A few small footholds presented themselves, and there was someindication of a ledge. The cliff is so high that to climb it all wasan obvious impossibility, and it was equally impossible to make my wayalong the wet path without leaving some tracks. I might, it is true,have reversed my boots, as I have done on similar occasions, but thesight of three sets of tracks in one direction would certainly havesuggested a deception. On the whole, then, it was best that I shouldrisk the climb. It was not a pleasant business, Watson. The fall roaredbeneath me. I am not a fanciful person, but I give you my word thatI seemed to hear Moriarty's voice screaming at me out of the abyss. Amistake would have been fatal. More than once, as tufts of grass cameout in my hand or my foot slipped in the wet notches of the rock, Ithought that I was gone. But I strugg
led upwards, and at last I reacheda ledge several feet deep and covered with soft green moss, where Icould lie unseen in the most perfect comfort. There I was stretched whenyou, my dear Watson, and all your following were investigating in themost sympathetic and inefficient manner the circumstances of my death.
"At last, when you had all formed your inevitable and totally erroneousconclusions, you departed for the hotel and I was left alone. I hadimagined that I had reached the end of my adventures, but a veryunexpected occurrence showed me that there were surprises still in storefor me. A huge rock, falling from above, boomed past me, struck thepath, and bounded over into the chasm. For an instant I thought thatit was an accident; but a moment later, looking up, I saw a man's headagainst the darkening sky, and another stone struck the very ledge uponwhich I was stretched, within a foot of my head. Of course, the meaningof this was obvious. Moriarty had not been alone. A confederate--andeven that one glance had told me how dangerous a man that confederatewas--had kept guard while the Professor had attacked me. From adistance, unseen by me, he had been a witness of his friend's death andof my escape. He had waited, and then, making his way round to thetop of the cliff, he had endeavoured to succeed where his comrade hadfailed.
"I did not take long to think about it, Watson. Again I saw that grimface look over the cliff, and I knew that it was the precursor ofanother stone. I scrambled down on to the path. I don't think I couldhave done it in cold blood. It was a hundred times more difficult thangetting up. But I had no time to think of the danger, for another stonesang past me as I hung by my hands from the edge of the ledge. Halfwaydown I slipped, but by the blessing of God I landed, torn and bleeding,upon the path. I took to my heels, did ten miles over the mountainsin the darkness, and a week later I found myself in Florence with thecertainty that no one in the world knew what had become of me.
"I had only one confidant--my brother Mycroft. I owe you many apologies,my dear Watson, but it was all-important that it should be thought Iwas dead, and it is quite certain that you would not have written soconvincing an account of my unhappy end had you not yourself thoughtthat it was true. Several times during the last three years I have takenup my pen to write to you, but always I feared lest your affectionateregard for me should tempt you to some indiscretion which would betraymy secret. For that reason I turned away from you this evening whenyou upset my books, for I was in danger at the time, and any show ofsurprise and emotion upon your part might have drawn attention to myidentity and led to the most deplorable and irreparable results. As toMycroft, I had to confide in him in order to obtain the money whichI needed. The course of events in London did not run so well as I hadhoped, for the trial of the Moriarty gang left two of its most dangerousmembers, my own most vindictive enemies, at liberty. I travelled fortwo years in Tibet, therefore, and amused myself by visiting Lhassaand spending some days with the head Llama. You may have read of theremarkable explorations of a Norwegian named Sigerson, but I am surethat it never occurred to you that you were receiving news of yourfriend. I then passed through Persia, looked in at Mecca, and paid ashort but interesting visit to the Khalifa at Khartoum, the results ofwhich I have communicated to the Foreign Office. Returning to France Ispent some months in a research into the coal-tar derivatives, which Iconducted in a laboratory at Montpelier, in the South of France. Havingconcluded this to my satisfaction, and learning that only one of myenemies was now left in London, I was about to return when my movementswere hastened by the news of this very remarkable Park Lane Mystery,which not only appealed to me by its own merits, but which seemed tooffer some most peculiar personal opportunities. I came over at once toLondon, called in my own person at Baker Street, threw Mrs. Hudson intoviolent hysterics, and found that Mycroft had preserved my rooms and mypapers exactly as they had always been. So it was, my dear Watson, thatat two o'clock to-day I found myself in my old arm-chair in my own oldroom, and only wishing that I could have seen my old friend Watson inthe other chair which he has so often adorned."
Such was the remarkable narrative to which I listened on that Aprilevening--a narrative which would have been utterly incredible to me hadit not been confirmed by the actual sight of the tall, spare figure andthe keen, eager face, which I had never thought to see again. In somemanner he had learned of my own sad bereavement, and his sympathy wasshown in his manner rather than in his words. "Work is the best antidoteto sorrow, my dear Watson," said he, "and I have a piece of work for usboth to-night which, if we can bring it to a successful conclusion, willin itself justify a man's life on this planet." In vain I begged himto tell me more. "You will hear and see enough before morning," heanswered. "We have three years of the past to discuss. Let that sufficeuntil half-past nine, when we start upon the notable adventure of theempty house."
It was indeed like old times when, at that hour, I found myself seatedbeside him in a hansom, my revolver in my pocket and the thrill ofadventure in my heart. Holmes was cold and stern and silent. As thegleam of the street-lamps flashed upon his austere features I saw thathis brows were drawn down in thought and his thin lips compressed. Iknew not what wild beast we were about to hunt down in the dark jungleof criminal London, but I was well assured from the bearing of thismaster huntsman that the adventure was a most grave one, while thesardonic smile which occasionally broke through his ascetic gloom bodedlittle good for the object of our quest.
I had imagined that we were bound for Baker Street, but Holmes stoppedthe cab at the corner of Cavendish Square. I observed that as he steppedout he gave a most searching glance to right and left, and at everysubsequent street corner he took the utmost pains to assure that he wasnot followed. Our route was certainly a singular one. Holmes's knowledgeof the byways of London was extraordinary, and on this occasion hepassed rapidly, and with an assured step, through a network of mews andstables the very existence of which I had never known. We emerged atlast into a small road, lined with old, gloomy houses, which led us intoManchester Street, and so to Blandford Street. Here he turned swiftlydown a narrow passage, passed through a wooden gate into a desertedyard, and then opened with a key the back door of a house. We enteredtogether and he closed it behind us.
The place was pitch-dark, but it was evident to me that it was an emptyhouse. Our feet creaked and crackled over the bare planking, and myoutstretched hand touched a wall from which the paper was hanging inribbons. Holmes's cold, thin fingers closed round my wrist and led meforwards down a long hall, until I dimly saw the murky fanlight over thedoor. Here Holmes turned suddenly to the right, and we found ourselvesin a large, square, empty room, heavily shadowed in the corners, butfaintly lit in the centre from the lights of the street beyond. Therewas no lamp near and the window was thick with dust, so that we couldonly just discern each other's figures within. My companion put his handupon my shoulder and his lips close to my ear.
"Do you know where we are?" he whispered.
"Surely that is Baker Street," I answered, staring through the dimwindow.
"Exactly. We are in Camden House, which stands opposite to our own oldquarters."
"But why are we here?"
"Because it commands so excellent a view of that picturesque pile. MightI 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 ourold rooms--the starting-point of so many of our little adventures? Wewill see if my three years of absence have entirely taken away my powerto surprise you."
I crept forward and looked across at the familiar window. As my eyesfell upon it I gave a gasp and a cry of amazement. The blind was downand a strong light was burning in the room. The shadow of a man whowas seated in a chair within was thrown in hard, black outline upon theluminous screen of the window. There was no mistaking the poise of thehead, the squareness of the shoulders, the sharpness of the features.The face was turned half-round, and the effect was that of one ofthose black silhouettes which our grandparents loved to frame. It was aperfect reproduction of Holmes. So amazed was I that I threw o
ut myhand to make sure that the man himself was standing beside me. He wasquivering with silent laughter.
"Well?" said he.
"Good heavens!" I cried. "It is marvellous."
"I trust that age doth not wither nor custom stale my infinitevariety,'" said he, and I recognised in his voice the joy and pridewhich the artist takes in his own creation. "It really is rather likeme, is it not?"
"I should be prepared to swear that it was you."
"The credit of the execution is due to Monsieur Oscar Meunier, ofGrenoble, who spent some days in doing the moulding. It is a bust inwax. The rest I arranged myself during my visit to Baker Street thisafternoon."
"But why?"