ffectionate regard for me should tempt you to
some indiscretion which would betray 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 travelled for two years in tibet, therefore,
and amused myself by visiting lhassa and spending some days
with the head llama. you may have read of the remarkable
explorations of a norwegian named sigerson, but i am sure
that it never occurred to you that you were receiving news
of your friend. i then passed 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
montpelier, 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 which seemed to offer some most
peculiar personal opportunities. i came over at once to
london, called in my own person at baker street, threw 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 two o'clock
to-day i found myself in my old arm-chair in my own old
room, and only wishing that i could have seen my old friend
watson in the other chair which he has so often adorned."
such was the 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 sight 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 to-night 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 half-past nine,
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 hansom, 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 his thin lips
compressed. i knew not what wild beast 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 ascetic gloom
boded little 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's knowledge of the byways of london was
extraordinary, and on this occasion he passed rapidly, and
with an assured step, through a network of mews 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,
passed through a 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. holmes's cold,
thin fingers closed round my wrist and led me forwards down
a long hall, until i dimly saw the murky fanlight over the
door. here holm
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