es 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 centre from
the lights of the street beyond. there was no lamp near
and the window was 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 whispered.
"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 a 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 our little adventures?
{1} 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 to frame. it was a perfect
reproduction of holmes. 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 marvellous."
"i trust that age doth not wither nor custom stale my
infinite variety,'" said he, and i recognised 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
meunier, of grenoble, who spent some days in doing the
moulding. 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 believed 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 recognised their sentinel when i glanced out of
my window. he is a harmless enough fellow, parker by name,
a garroter by trade, and a remarkable performer upon the
jew's 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
criminal in london. that is the man who is after me to-night,
watson, and that is the man who is quite unaware that we are
after _him_."
my friend's 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 were the hunters. in silence we
stood together in the darkness and watched the hurrying
figures who passed and repassed 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 tried to draw my companion's 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 altogether
as he had hoped. at last, 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 e
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