Sherlock Holmes.

Chapter 91 The Return (2)
"It takes only the slightest bit of surprise and agitation from you to attract attention, which can have tragic and irreparable results. As for my brother Mycroft, in order to get the money I need, I must keep the secret Tell him. Things did not go as smoothly as I had imagined in London, because two of the most dangerous men, who had a deep hatred for me, were left out of the trial of the Moriarty gang. People get away with it.

"For about two years, I spent time in Tibet, China. I often went to Lhasa to spend time with the great lamas. You may have seen a wonderful report written by a Norwegian named Sigsen, I dare say it never occurred to you that it was the news of your friend. Afterwards I went to Persia and visited the Holy Land of Mecca, and then went to Khartoum for a short but very interesting visit to the Caliph, and brought The results of the visit were communicated to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

"After returning to France, I spent a few more months studying the derivatives of coal tar combustion in a laboratory in Montpellier in the south of France. I am very happy to have completed this After researching, I heard that only one of my enemies remained in London, so I came back.

"Meanwhile, the Park Road mystery hastened my action. Not only did the truth of the case fascinate me, but it also seemed to me a good opportunity. I returned at once to my own house in Baker Street, London, Terrified Mrs. Hudson. My brother has kept them as they were when I lived in them. And so, my dear Watson, as I sit in that old chair in my old house, I realize that I now most want to see The one who arrived is you."

Such was the strange thing I heard that night in April.If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I thought I would never see this tall, thin figure and warm face again.I don't understand at all how he knew the pain of my wife's bereavement. He expressed his condolences to me with attitude instead of words. "Work is the best medicine for grief," he said, "tonight we have a job to do, and if we can do it successfully, there will be one life in the world who can get justice." I told him To be more specific, but he refused.He said: "Before dawn, you will hear and see a lot of things. In the past three years, although we have a lot of past stories to talk about, we can only go until 09:30 in the evening, because this special empty house adventure is about to begin. "

As usual, by 09:30 I was sitting next to him in a two-seater carriage.I had the pistol in my pocket, and my heart was full of the thrill of adventure.Holmes remained calm and said nothing.The light from the street lamps flickered on his stern face, and his brow was furrowed and his lips were tightly shut.I had no idea what we were searching for in this dark, criminal-infested jungle of London, but the good hunter looked as if it would be a dangerous operation.His gloomy expression and a sarcastic smile from time to time indicate that the object of our search must be in danger.

I had thought we would go to Baker Street, but Holmes stopped the carriage at the corner of Cavendish Square.I noticed that he looked left and right as he got out of the car, and then looked extremely carefully at every corner of the street he passed to see if anyone was following him.The paths we took were certainly unique.Holmes knew the back lanes of London all too well, and this time he passed quickly through a series of alleys and stables unknown to me, and at last came to a lane lined on either side with gloomy old houses.We followed the path to Manchester Street, and then to Branford Street.Here he immediately turned into a narrow passage, passed through a wooden gate and entered a small uninhabited courtyard.He opened the back door of the house, and after we went in, he closed the door again.

It was pitch dark inside, but it was obvious that it was an empty house.The floor was not carpeted and creaked when stepped on.I reached out and touched a wall, and the pasted paper had cracked, hanging down in pieces.Holmes seized me in his icy hands, and led me down a long passage, till we could dimly see the looming transom of the door.Here he turned again abruptly to the right, and we entered the next empty square room, all four corners of which were dark, except for one of which was somewhat lit by a distant street lamp.The streetlights were some distance from the house, and the windows had collected a thick layer of dust, so now all we could see were each other's silhouettes.He put his hands on my shoulders and brought his mouth close to my ear.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked quietly.

"That's Baker Street, right?" I opened my eyes wide and looked into the distance.

"Exactly. This is the Camon mansion opposite the apartment." He explained mysteriously.

"Then why did we come here? Did you find anything important?" I asked him anxiously.

"Because you can see the tall building on the opposite side clearly from here. Dear Watson, please move closer to the window, be careful not to be seen by others, and observe our old house again - don't you have many amazing stories from Did it start there? Let's see again, have I completely lost the ability to surprise you during the three years I've been gone?"

I walked forward gently, looking towards the familiar window.When I saw everything in front of me, I cried out in surprise.At that time, the curtains had been drawn down, and the lights were still on in the room, but a person sitting in the room was clearly reflected on the curtains: the posture of the head, the well-defined face, the broad shoulders, the half-turned The face, like a silhouette our grandparents loved to frame, looked like Sherlock Holmes himself.I stretched out my hand in surprise, wondering if he was next to me.He laughed so silently that his whole body was shaking.

"Did you see it all?" he said.

"Oh my god! I can't believe it, is this real? This is amazing!" I said out loud.

"I don't think my varied approach has diminished with age, or outdated with regular use," he says.I heard from his words that this great artist is very satisfied with his masterpiece.

"Is it like me?"

"I could have sworn it was you."

"It is all due to Monsieur Oscar Meunier of Grenoble, who spent several days making a wax model. That is a wax figure. I did the rest this afternoon."

"Do you think someone is watching your apartment?" I asked curiously.

"Yes, of course I know these things." He answered me frankly.

"Who are they?" I said, looking at him nervously.

"My dear old rival, their leader is still lying under the Reichenbach Falls. Don't forget that only they know that I am alive, and they think I will return sooner or later, so they never stop watching. They have found me back in London this morning."

"How do you know this?" I was even more confused.

"I was looking out the window at the time, and I recognized the man they sent to spy on me. I don't think this guy poses much threat to me. His name is Buckle, he lives by plundering and killing. Jewish harmonica player. I don't care about him at all. My biggest concern is the man behind him. He is Moriarty's good friend and at the same time a very dangerous and treacherous criminal. The Stone Man. Watson, it is he who is after me now, and he does not know that we are after him, too."

Holmes' plan is unfolding step by step: from this convenient hiding place, the watcher is being watched, and the stalker is being followed.The shadow on the window over there is the bait, and we two are the hunters.We stood quietly in the dark room, staring intently at the passers-by.Holmes was silent and motionless, and I could see that he was now on the alert.It was a very cold and noisy night, and the wind whistled softly across the long street.The streets are full of people, all wrapped in thick coats and scarves.Once or twice, I seemed to see people I had known before, and I especially noticed two people who were sheltering in the doorway of a house.I asked Holmes to observe them, but he gave an exclamation of impatience, and then looked intently at the passers-by in the street.Anxiety caused him to walk up and down now and then, tapping his fingers against the walls, and it was evident that he began to doubt whether his arrangement would work as well as he thought.Until midnight, the pedestrians on the street gradually became rare, and he couldn't restrain his uneasy emotions, pacing up and down in the house.I was about to say something to him when I glanced up at the lighted window opposite, only to be as surprised as before.I took Holmes by the arm and made him look ahead.

"The shadow is moving! That's great." I called out. "The shadow on the curtain has changed direction."

These three years had done nothing to lessen his irascibility, still less his impatience towards those less intelligent than himself.

He said to me: "Of course it has to move, otherwise it would be easy to see through. Am I so stupid? I hope to use it to fool the most cunning people in Europe, is it possible? We During the two hours we were here, Mrs. Hudson had changed its position eight times, about once every quarter of an hour. She turned it in front so that her shadow would not be seen. Ah! Holmes gasped, and in the very dim light I saw him thrust his head forward, his whole body tense with concentration.The street outside was deserted, and the two men were probably still huddled in the doorway, but I couldn't see them at all.The night was frighteningly quiet.Nothing could be seen except the figure on the curtain.In this quiet night, the slight "hissing" sound sounded in my ears at the same time, maybe he was trying to hold back the over-excitement.In a few moments Holmes drew me into the darkest corner, and gagged me with his hand.His hands were trembling constantly, I have never seen such a big reaction from him.The dark avenue still looms before us, desolate and silent.

In a few moments I was suddenly aware of what Holmes' superhuman senses had already perceived.There came to our ears a soft, creeping sound, not from Baker Street, but from the back of the house in which we were.A door opens and closes again.After a while, soft footsteps sounded in the corridor again.The footsteps that I didn't want to make a sound produced a piercing echo here.Holmes crouched against the wall, and I crouched likewise, the revolver clutched tightly in my hand.I vaguely saw an unclear figure. After standing there for a while, he bent down and sneaked into the room.When this menacing man was within three yards of us, I was ready for him to pounce upon me, when I remembered that he had no idea of ​​our existence.He passed us both, approaching the window slowly, and gently pushing it open half a foot.As he knelt at the window, the street lamps, no longer obscured by the dusty glass, revealed his face.The man seemed to be carried away with excitement, his eyes were shining, and his face was quivering.He was an elderly man with a thin, protruding nose, a high, bald forehead, and a large gray beard.He pulled back the collapsible top hat and unbuttoned his coat, revealing a white tuxedo underneath.His dark and thin face was covered with wrinkles.In his hand he held something that looked like a cane but made a metallic clang when placed on the ground.Then he took out a lot of things from the pocket of his coat, groped for a while, and finally made a "click" sound, as if something like a spring or a bolt was hung on it.He hadn't stood up from the floor yet, but bent over and put all his strength on some kind of lever. At that time, there was a long friction sound, and then there was a "click" sound.When he straightened up, I saw that it was a gun with a peculiarly shaped butt.He immediately opened the breech of the gun, put the bullet in, and pushed the bolt on with a "snap".He leaned over the window and set the barrel of the gun.His long beard draped over the butt of his gun, his glowing eyes focused on the sights.The moment he pressed the butt of his gun against his right shoulder, he let out a sigh of satisfaction, and I saw my frightening and surprising object—the figure in the curtain.He paused for a moment, pulling the trigger.There was a loud bang, followed by the sound of glass shattering.At that instant Holmes sprang at the shooter like a tiger about to descend, and threw him face down on the ground.The man got up immediately and strangled Holmes by the neck with all his strength.I hurriedly picked up the pistol and hit his head hard with the handle of the gun, and he fell to the floor again.When I rushed to hold the man down, Holmes blew his siren, there was a clatter of footsteps on the sidewalk, and two policemen and a plainclothes rushed in through the gate.

"Is it Lethred?"

"It is I, Mr. Holmes, who have taken the case myself. I am glad to see you back safely."

"I think you need some unofficial help. If three murders go unsolved in a year, it won't do, Mr. Lesred. You don't handle the Morzi case the way you usually do—that is. Say you're doing fine."

All of us stood up.The murderer was panting, and a tall and mighty policeman stood on either side of him.At that time, some people who liked to watch the excitement gathered on the street.Holmes went to close the window and lowered the curtain.Lethred lighted two candles, and the policemen lit their lanterns, so that we could have a clear view of the murderer.

It was a face full of energy and cunning.He has a philosopher's forehead and a womanizer's chin. It seems that he has natural talents, but let's not talk about adultery for a while, just look at his drooping and mocking eyes, that cold, fierce and challenging face. Nose and those bushy brows that are pressing, everyone can recognize him as a most dangerous person.At this moment, he didn't look at anyone, but only stared at Holmes, his eyes full of hatred and hatred. "You're a complete devil, so insidious and cunning," he kept muttering.

"Ah! my dear Colonel!" said Holmes, adjusting his disheveled collar, "as the old play says: 'It is not that enemies do not come together.' Since the last time at the Reichenbach Falls, We haven’t seen each other for a long time after being taken care of on the cliff.”

The Colonel continued to stare at Holmes like a man in a trance.All he said was, "You cunning devil!"

"My lord colonel, I have not formally introduced you to you," said Holmes. "Gentlemen, this is the well-known Colonel Sebastian Moren, who used to fight in Her Majesty's Indian Army. He is the best sharpshooter trained by our empire. Colonel, your achievement in hunting tigers is unique in the world, right?"

The fierce old man said nothing, but stared at my partner with his eyes.His fierce eyes and long beard made him look like a tiger, ready to eat people at any time.

"It is strange that this little trick of mine could have fooled such an experienced hunter as you," said Holmes. "You must remember that you once tied a lamb under a tree, and you Hiding in a tree with a gun, using a lamb as bait to lure a tiger? Now, this empty house is my tree, and you are the tiger I want to shoot. You must have a spare gun in case there are more difficult tigers, or if you misalign it, which is of course unlikely." He pointed to everyone around him, "They are all my backup guns , is this analogy appropriate?"

Moran roared angrily and rushed at him, but was pulled back by two policemen, the look of rage on his face was terrifying.

"I confess that you have somewhat surprised me," said Holmes. "I did not expect that you would be able to rely on this empty room and this convenient window. I surmise that you may act from the street, and that there will be thunder Stride and his subordinates are waiting for you. Other than that, I expected it."

Colonel Moran turned his head to the official detective.

"You may or may not have valid reasons for arresting me now," he said, "but there is no reason, even at the minimum, to subject me to these taunts. If I am now in the hands of the law, everything Follow the rules!"

"You are quite right," said Lesred. "Mr. Holmes, before we leave here, do you have anything else to say?" Holmes had picked up the powerful air gun from the ground and was studying it carefully. its structure.

"This is a rare weapon," he said, "quiet and powerful. I know this blind German craftsman, von Herdel, who made this gun especially for Professor Moriarty. I I have known such a gun for several years, but I have never had the opportunity to play with it before. Mr. Lesred, today I specially entrust this gun and the bullets it is suitable for to you for safekeeping."

"Give them to us with all confidence, Mr. Holmes," said Lethreid, as we all moved towards the door. "Do you have anything else to say?"

"What crime do you intend to charge him with?"

"What charge? Murder, of course."

(End of this chapter)