Sherlock Holmes Complete Works 2

Chapter 26 Return 2
"I reacted in a very short time, Watson. I saw that face looking at me from the top of the cliff again. This was a signal that another stone was about to fall. I aimed at the path below the cliff and climbed down. But this is more difficult than climbing up. But I have no time to think about it, because just as I was hanging on the edge of the ledge with both hands, and my body was suspended in mid-air, another stone grazed the edge with a "huh" No. Halfway up the climb I lost my foot, and luckily I fell on the narrow track, and my head was bloodied. I got up and ran, and walked ten miles in the dark in the mountains. A week later, I arrived at Florence, so that no one in the world will know my whereabouts.

"I trusted only my brother Mycroft. I apologize to you so often, my dear Watson. But then it was best for everyone to believe that I was dead. If you did not believe that I was dead, you must write Not to mention the convincing story of my unfortunate end. I have wanted to write to you several times in the past three years, but always feared that your deep concern for me would lead you to reveal the secret. Likewise, this evening when When you touched my book, I had to avoid it because I was in danger. If you were a little surprised at the time, it might cause irreparable consequences by drawing people's attention to my identity. But in order to get the money I need , I must tell Mycroft my secret. In London, things did not go as I thought. For in the trial of the Moriarty gang two of the most dangerous members--and I These two sworn enemies. I traveled in Tibet for two years, and sometimes went to Lhasa to be with the great lamas.

You must have read the very excellent expedition report written by a Norwegian named Sigsen, and you would never think that you are reading the news of your friend.Then I visited the Caliph through Persia, the Holy Land of Mecca, and Khartoum, and reported this brief but interesting visit to the Foreign Office.I spent several months researching derivatives of coal tar in a laboratory in Montpellier, southern France.When it was over, I came back, because I had heard that my enemy was now alone in London.At this time, news of the strange case on Park Road came again, so I hastened my action.In addition to the merits of this case which attracted me, it also seemed to bring me a rare opportunity personally.I was at home in Baker Street, London, where Mrs. Hudson screamed hysterically.My chambers and records are well kept by Mycroft.And so, my dear Watson, at two o'clock this afternoon I found myself sitting in the old chair in my old room, and also wished to see my old friend Watson, sitting opposite him in the place where he used to sit. on that chair. "

Such was the strange story of that night in April.I saw for myself the tall, lanky figure and the earnest face I thought I would never see again, confirming that this story was not a lie.I don't know how he got the news of my wife's death, but he comforted me with actions instead of words. "Work is the greatest painkiller for grief," he said, "and I have a task for both of us tonight that I hope will be successful." I wish he could explain, but it doesn't work. "You've got plenty to see and hear before dawn," he replied. "We're going to talk about three years, but only at 09:30, and then this particular empty house adventure begins."

As always, by 09:30 I was thrilled to find us side by side in a two-seater, pistol in my pocket.Holmes was quite composed.The flickering light of the street lamps shone on his stern face, his brows were frowned in thought, his lips were pursed.From the air of the expert hunter, I was quite sure that this was another very risky venture.From time to time a sardonic smile broke out from his ascetic sullen face, which foreshadowed that the object of our search was in danger.

The carriage was parked at the corner of Cavendish Square, not Baker Street, as I had supposed.I saw him look left and right as he came down, and then at every corner of the street he passed to see if there was anyone following him.The route we took must have been unique--he was familiar with the London backwaters of Dowt.This time he moved swiftly and surely through many alleys and stables I had never heard of.Appears on a small road lined with dark houses.Following the path we crossed Manchester Street and then Branford Street.Here he turned immediately into a narrow passage into an unoccupied yard, before passing through a wooden gate.He used a key to open the back door of a house, and after we walked in together, he closed the door.

It was evidently an empty house, and it was pitch black, and we stomped on the bare floorboards, which creaked.I reached out and touched a wall, and the pasted paper had cracked and hung down in pieces.Holmes led me down a long passage, holding my wrist with his cold hand, until I vaguely saw the dimly lit fan-window in the door.Here he turned abruptly to the right, and we entered a large square empty room, only the middle of which was illuminated in the darkness by a distant street lamp.There were no street lights nearby, and the windows were thick with dust, so we could only see each other's silhouettes inside.He brought his mouth close to my ear.

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

"That's Baker Street." I opened my eyes and looked out as best I could.

"By the way, this is the Camden Mansion across from our apartment."

"Why are you here?"

"From here you can see the tall building opposite. My dear Watson, please come closer to the window, so as not to expose us. And look at our old apartment - not all your wonderful stories come from there Started? Let's see if I've completely lost my ability to amaze you these three years?"

I moved a few steps forward and looked towards the opposite window.I was taken aback when I saw that window.The curtains had been lowered, and the room was lit with bright lights. The people sitting in the room were clearly reflected on the bright curtains: the posture of the head, the broad shoulders, and the chiseled face were exactly like Sherlock Holmes himself.I was so surprised that I quickly stretched out my hand, wondering if he was still by my side.He laughed silently, trembling all over.

"See?" he said.

"It's wonderful!" I exclaimed.

"I don't believe my varied approach has faded with age, or outdated with common use," he says.From his words, I could hear the artist's joy and pride in his creation. "It does look like me, doesn't it?"

"That's just you!" I said as if swearing.

"Monsieur Oscar Meunier of Grenoble is responsible for it, and it took him a few days to make the mold. It is nothing more than a wax figure. The rest I designed myself this afternoon in Baker Street."

"Someone is watching your apartment?"

"Correct."

"Then who is he?"

"My old enemies, Moriarty's lovely people, whose 'leader' is lying at the foot of Reichenbach Falls. They think I will return to the apartment sooner or later, and they have been watching. They have known this morning. I've arrived in London."

"And how did you find out?"

"Because I was looking out of the window, and all of a sudden I saw the man they sent sentry. This is a little guy named Buckle, a murderer and robber for a living, and a good Jewish harmonica player. What I care about is harder The fellow I dealt with. He was Moriarty's bosom friend, the rock-thrower, the most cunning and dangerous criminal in all of London. Watson, it was he who was chasing me to-night, and he Didn't realize we were chasing him at the same time."

Holmes' ingenious plan is gradually unfolded: in this convenient place, those who watch others are being watched, and those who track others are being tracked.The thin shadow in the window over there is bait, and we are clever hunters.In the darkness we watch the figures hurrying to and fro.He didn't speak or move, but I could tell he was tense, watching passers-by carefully.The night's cold and noisy wind blew through the long avenue with a piercing whistling sound.Once or twice I seemed to see the same figures as I had just seen, especially two figures who seemed to be sheltering in a nearby doorway.I called Holmes' attention to these two men, but he gave a cry of impatience, and then looked intently into the street again.Sometimes he moved anxiously, tapping his fingers on the wall.The pedestrians on the street gradually thinned out. Near midnight, he became more and more anxious, pacing up and down in the house.I was about to say something to him, when again, startled, I took his arm and pointed to the window.

"The shadow moved!" I cried out.

At this time, the shadow on the curtain is no longer sideways, but turned to face us.

His violent temper was not abated, nor was his impatience with those less intelligent than himself.

"Of course he moved," said he. "Could setting up an instantly recognizable dummy fool some of the most cunning men in Europe? We'll stay in the room, and Mrs. Hudson will change the positions of the figures." , quarter of an hour at a time. She turns it from the front, so that her own shadow is never seen. Ah!" He gasped.In the dim light, I saw him lean forward, his whole body tensed up with high attention.The streets were deserted.Those two people may still be huddled in the doorway, but I can't see them anymore.In the silence, suddenly my ears heard the small hissing sound that can only be made when suppressing extreme excitement.After a while, I was dragged by him to retreat into the darkest corner of the room, with one hand covering my mouth.His fingers trembled slightly with excitement.

At this time, what his superhuman senses had already perceived, I also suddenly discovered.I heard a slight creeping sound coming from the back of the room we were in.A door suddenly opened and closed.After a while, footsteps sounded in the corridor.The sound reverberated harshly throughout the room.Holmes crouched softly against the wall, and I crouched after me, my hand clenched on the butt of my revolver.A vague figure appeared in the haze.After standing for a while, he sneaked into the house.The menacing figure was only three yards from us.He slipped past us, approached the window, and gently and noiselessly pushed it up half a foot.When he knelt down, the street light was no longer blocked by the dusty glass, and his face was clearly illuminated.His eyes were shining, and his face was twitching constantly.This is an elderly man with a thin and protruding nose, a bald and bright forehead, and a big gray beard. He opened his coat and exposed it.

(End of this chapter)