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