For an instant I thought that it was an accident; but a moment later, looking up, I saw a man's head against the darkening sky, and another stone struck the very ledge upon which I was stretched, within a foot of my head.Of course, the meaning of this was obvious.
Moriarty had not been alone.A confederate -- and even that one glance had told me how dangerous a man that confederate was --had kept guard while the Professor had attacked me.From a distance, unseen by me, he had been a witness of his friend's death and of my escape.He had waited, and then, making his way round to the top of the cliff, he had endeavoured to succeed where his comrade had failed.
"I did not take long to think about it, Watson.Again I saw that grim face look over the cliff, and I knew that it was the precursor of another stone.I scrambled down on to the path.
I don't think I could have done it in cold blood.It was a hundred times more difficult than getting up.But I had no time to think of the danger, for another stone sang past me as I hung by my hands from the edge of the ledge.Halfway down 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 mountains in the darkness, and a week later I found myself in Florence with the certainty 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 I was dead, and it is quite certain that you would not have written so convincing an account of my unhappy end had you not yourself thought that it was true.Several times during the last three years I have taken up my pen to write to you, but always I feared lest your affectionate 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.
