The Final Problem
It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write these the last
words in which I shall ever record the singular gifts by which my friend
Mr. Sherlock Holmes was distinguished. In an incoherent and, as I deeply
feel, an entirely inadequate fashion, I have endeavored to give some
account of my strange experiences in his company from the chance which
first brought us together at the period of the "Study in Scarlet," up
interference which had the unquestionable effect of preventing a serious
international complication. It was my intention to have stopped there,
and to have said nothing of that event which has created a void in my
life which the lapse of two years has done little to fill. My hand
has been forced, however, by the recent letters in which Colonel James
Moriarty defends the memory of his brother, and I have no choice but to
lay the facts before the public exactly as they occurred. I alone know
the absolute truth of the matter, and I am satisfied that the time has
come when no good purpose is to be served by its suppression. As far as
I know, there have been only three accounts in the public press: that
in the Journal de Geneve on May 6th, 1891, the Reuter's despatch in the
English papers on May 7th, and finally the recent letter to which I have
alluded. Of these the first and second were extremely condensed, while
the last is, as I shall now show, an absolute perversion of the facts.
It lies with me to tell for the first time what really took place
between Professor Moriarty and Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
It may be remembered that after my marriage, and my subsequent start in
private practice, the very intimate relations which had existed between
Holmes and myself became to some extent modified. He still came to me
from time to time when he desired a companion in his investigation, but
these occasions grew more and more seldom, until I find that in the year
1890 there were only three cases of which I retain any record. During
the winter of that year and the early spring of 1891, I saw in the
papers that he had been engaged by the French government upon a matter
of supreme importance, and I received two notes from Holmes, dated from
Narbonne and from Nimes, from which I gathered that his stay in France
was likely to be a long one. It was with some surprise, therefore, that
I saw him walk into my consulting-room upon the evening of April 24th.
It struck me that he was looking even paler and thinner than usual.
"Yes, I have been using myself up rather too freely," he remarked, in
answer to my look rather than to my words; "I have been a little pressed
of late. Have you any objection to my closing your shutters?"
The only light in the room came from the lamp upon the table at which I
had been reading. Holmes edged his way round the wall and flinging the
shutters together, he bolted them securely.
"You are afraid of something?" I asked.
"Well, I am."
"Of what?"
"Of air-guns."
"My dear Holmes, what do you mean?"
"I think that you know me well enough, Watson, to understand that I am
by no means a nervous man. At the same time, it is stupidity rather than
courage to refuse to recognize danger when it is close upon you. Might
I trouble you for a match?" He drew in the smoke of his cigarette as if
the soothing influence was grateful to him.
"I must apologize for calling so late," said he, "and I must further beg
you to be so unconventional as to allow me to leave your house presently
by scrambling over your back garden wall."
"But what does it all mean?" I asked.
He held out his hand, and I saw in the light of the lamp that two of his
knuckles were burst and bleeding.
"It is not an airy nothing, you see," said he, smiling. "On the
contrary, it is solid enough for a man to break his hand over. Is Mrs.
Watson in?"
"She is away upon a visit."
"Indeed! You are alone?"
"Quite."
"Then it makes it the easier for me to propose that you should come away
with me for a week to the Continent."
"Where?"
"Oh, anywhere. It's all the same to me."
There was something very strange in all this. It was not Holmes's nature
to take an aimless holiday, and something about his pale, worn face told
me that his nerves were at their highest tension. He saw the question in
my eyes, and, putting his finger-tips together and his elbows upon his
knees, he explained the situation.
"You have probably never heard of Professor Moriarty?" said he.
"Never."
"Aye, there's the genius and the wonder of the thing!" he cried. "The
man pervades London, and no one has heard of him. That's what puts
him on a pinnacle in the records of crime. I tell you, Watson, in all
seriousness, that if I could beat that man, if I could free society
of him, I should feel that my own career had reached its summit, and
I should be prepared to turn to some more placid line in life. Between
ourselves, the recent cases in which I have been of assistance to the
royal family of Scandinavia, and to the French republic, have left me in
such a position that I could continue to live in the quiet fashion
which is most congenial to me, and to concentrate my attention upon my
chemical researches. But I could not rest, Watson, I could not sit quiet
in my chair, if I thought that such a man as Professor Moriarty were
walking the streets of London unchallenged."
"What has he done, then?"
"His career has been an extraordinary one. He is a man of good birth and
excellent education, endowed by nature with a phenomenal mathematical
faculty. At the age of twenty-one he wrote a treatise upon the Binomial
Theorem, which has had a European vogue. On the strength of it he won
the Mathematical Chair at one of our smaller universities, and had, to
all appearances, a most brilliant career before him. But the man had
hereditary tendencies of the most diabolical kind. A criminal strain
ran in his blood, which, instead of being modified, was increased and
rendered infinitely more dangerous by his extraordinary mental powers.
Dark rumors gathered round him in the university town, and eventually he
was compelled to resign his chair and to come down to London, where he
set up as an army coach. So much is known to the world, but what I am
telling you now is what I have myself discovered.
"As you are aware, Watson, there is no one who knows the higher criminal
world of London so well as I do. For years past I have continually been
conscious of some power behind the malefactor, some deep organizing
power which forever stands in the way of the law, and throws its shield
over the wrong-doer. Again and again in cases of the most varying
sorts--forgery cases, robberies, murders--I have felt the presence of
this force, and I have deduced its action in many of those undiscovered
crimes in which I have not been personally consulted. For years I have
endeavored to break through the veil which shrouded it, and at last
the time came when I seized my thread and followed it, until it led
me, after a thousand cunning windings, to ex-Professor Moriarty of
mathematical celebrity.
"He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson. He is the organizer of half that
is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city. He is a
genius, a philosopher, an abstract thinker. He has a brain of the first
order. He sits motionless, like a spider in the center of its web, but
that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of
each of them. He does little himself. He only plans. But his agents are
numerous and splendidly organized. Is there a crime to be done, a
paper to be abstracted, we will say, a house to be rifled, a man to be
removed--the word is passed to the Professor, the matter is organized
and carried out. The agent may be caught. In that case money is found
for his bail or his defence. But the central power which uses the agent
is never caught--never so much as suspected. This was the organization
which I deduced, Watson, and which I devoted my whole energy to exposing
and breaking up.
"But the Professor was fenced round with safeguards so cunningly devised
that, do what I would, it seemed impossible to get evidence which would
convict in a court of law. You know my powers, my dear Watson, and yet
at the end of three months I was forced to confess that I had at last
met an antagonist who was my intellectual equal. My horror at his crimes
was lost in my admiration at his skill. But at last he made a trip--only
a little, little trip--but it was more than he could afford when I was
so close upon him. I had my chance, and, starting from that point, I
have woven my net round him until now it is all ready to close. In three
days--that is to say, on Monday next--matters will be ripe, and the
Professor, with all the principal members of his gang, will be in the
hands of the police. Then will come the greatest criminal trial of the
century, the clearing up of over forty mysteries, and the rope for all
of them; but if we move at all prematurely, you understand, they may
slip out of our hands even at the last moment.
"Now, if I could have done this without the knowledge of Professor
Moriarty, all would have been well. But he was too wily for that. He saw
every step which I took to draw my toils round him. Again and again
he strove to break away, but I as often headed him off. I tell you,
my friend, that if a detailed account of that silent contest could
be written, it would take its place as the most brilliant bit of
thrust-and-parry work in the history of detection. Never have I risen to
such a height, and never have I been so hard pressed by an opponent. He
cut deep, and yet I just undercut him. This morning the last steps were
taken, and three days only were wanted to complete the business. I was
sitting in my room thinking the matter over, when the door opened and
Professor Moriarty stood before me.
"My nerves are fairly proof, Watson, but I must confess to a start when
I saw the very man who had been so much in my thoughts standing there on
my threshhold. His appearance was quite familiar to me. He is extremely
tall and thin, his forehead domes out in a white curve, and his two
eyes are deeply sunken in his head. He is clean-shaven, pale, and
ascetic-looking, retaining something of the professor in his features.
His shoulders are rounded from much study, and his face protrudes
forward, and is forever slowly oscillating from side to side in a
curiously reptilian fashion. He peered at me with great curiosity in his
puckered eyes.
"'You have less frontal development than I should have expected,' said
he, at last. 'It is a dangerous habit to finger loaded firearms in the
pocket of one's dressing-gown.'
"The fact is that upon his entrance I had instantly recognized the
extreme personal danger in which I lay. The only conceivable escape for
him lay in silencing my tongue. In an instant I had slipped the revolver
from the drawer into my pocket, and was covering him through the cloth.
At his remark I drew the weapon out and laid it cocked upon the table.
He still smiled and blinked, but there was something about his eyes
which made me feel very glad that I had it there.
"'You evidently don't know me,' said he.
"'On the contrary,' I answered, 'I think it is fairly evident that I do.
Pray take a chair. I can spare you five minutes if you have anything to
say.'
"'All that I have to say has already crossed your mind,' said he.
"'Then possibly my answer has crossed yours,' I replied.
"'You stand fast?'
"'Absolutely.'
"He clapped his hand into his pocket, and I raised the pistol from
the table. But he merely drew out a memorandum-book in which he had
scribbled some dates.
"'You crossed my path on the 4th of January,' said he. 'On the 23d you
incommoded me; by the middle of February I was seriously inconvenienced
by you; at the end of March I was absolutely hampered in my plans; and
now, at the close of April, I find myself placed in such a position
through your continual persecution that I am in positive danger of
losing my liberty. The situation is becoming an impossible one.'
"'Have you any suggestion to make?' I asked.
"'You must drop it, Mr. Holmes,' said he, swaying his face about. 'You
really must, you know.'
"'After Monday,' said I.
"'Tut, tut,' said he. 'I am quite sure that a man of your intelligence
will see that there can be but one outcome to this affair. It is
necessary that you should withdraw. You have worked things in such a
fashion that we have only one resource left. It has been an intellectual
treat to me to see the way in which you have grappled with this affair,
and I say, unaffectedly, that it would be a grief to me to be forced
to take any extreme measure. You smile, sir, but I assure you that it
really would.'
"'Danger is part of my trade,' I remarked.
"'That is not danger,' said he. 'It is inevitable destruction. You stand
in the way not merely of an individual, but of a mighty organization,
the full extent of which you, with all your cleverness, have been unable
to realize. You must stand clear, Mr. Holmes, or be trodden under foot.'
"'I am afraid,' said I, rising, 'that in the pleasure of this
conversation I am neglecting business of importance which awaits me
elsewhere.'
"He rose also and looked at me in silence, shaking his head sadly.
"'Well, well,' said he, at last. 'It seems a pity, but I have done
what I could. I know every move of your game. You can do nothing before
Monday. It has been a duel between you and me, Mr. Holmes. You hope to
place me in the dock. I tell you that I will never stand in the dock.
You hope to beat me. I tell you that you will never beat me. If you are
clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do
as much to you.'
"'You have paid me several compliments, Mr. Moriarty,' said I. 'Let me
pay you one in return when I say that if I were assured of the former
eventuality I would, in the interests of the public, cheerfully accept
the latter.'
"'I can promise you the one, but not the other,' he snarled, and so
turned his rounded back upon me, and went peering and blinking out of
the room.
"That was my singular interview with Professor Moriarty. I confess that
it left an unpleasant effect upon my mind. His soft, precise fashion
of speech leaves a conviction of sincerity which a mere bully could
not produce. Of course, you will say: 'Why not take police precautions
against him?' the reason is that I am well convinced that it is from his
agents the blow will fall. I have the best proofs that it would be so."
"You have already been assaulted?"
"My dear Watson, Professor Moriarty is not a man who lets the grass grow
under his feet. I went out about mid-day to transact some business in
Oxford Street. As I passed the corner which leads from Bentinck Street
on to the Welbeck Street crossing a two-horse van furiously driven
whizzed round and was on me like a flash. I sprang for the foot-path
and saved myself by the fraction of a second. The van dashed round by
Marylebone Lane and was gone in an instant. I kept to the pavement after
that, Watson, but as I walked down Vere Street a brick came down from
the roof of one of the houses, and was shattered to fragments at my
feet. I called the police and had the place examined. There were slates
and bricks piled up on the roof preparatory to some repairs, and they
would have me believe that the wind had toppled over one of these. Of
course I knew better, but I could prove nothing. I took a cab after that
and reached my brother's rooms in Pall Mall, where I spent the day. Now
I have come round to you, and on my way I was attacked by a rough with a
bludgeon. I knocked him down, and the police have him in custody; but
I can tell you with the most absolute confidence that no possible
connection will ever be traced between the gentleman upon whose front
teeth I have barked my knuckles and the retiring mathematical coach, who
is, I dare say, working out problems upon a black-board ten miles away.
You will not wonder, Watson, that my first act on entering your rooms
was to close your shutters, and that I have been compelled to ask your
permission to leave the house by some less conspicuous exit than the
front door."
I had often admired my friend's courage, but never more than now, as he
sat quietly checking off a series of incidents which must have combined
to make up a day of horror.
"You will spend the night here?" I said.
"No, my friend, you might find me a dangerous guest. I have my plans
laid, and all will be well. Matters have gone so far now that they can
move without my help as far as the arrest goes, though my presence is
necessary for a conviction. It is obvious, therefore, that I cannot do
better than get away for the few days which remain before the police are
at liberty to act. It would be a great pleasure to me, therefore, if you
could come on to the Continent with me."
"The practice is quiet," said I, "and I have an accommodating neighbor.
I should be glad to come."
"And to start to-morrow morning?"
"If necessary."
"Oh yes, it is most necessary. Then these are your instructions, and I
beg, my dear Watson, that you will obey them to the letter, for you are
now playing a double-handed game with me against the cleverest rogue and
the most powerful syndicate of criminals in Europe. Now listen! You
will dispatch whatever luggage you intend to take by a trusty messenger
unaddressed to Victoria to-night. In the morning you will send for a
hansom, desiring your man to take neither the first nor the second which
may present itself. Into this hansom you will jump, and you will drive
to the Strand end of the Lowther Arcade, handing the address to the
cabman upon a slip of paper, with a request that he will not throw it
away. Have your fare ready, and the instant that your cab stops,
dash through the Arcade, timing yourself to reach the other side at a
quarter-past nine. You will find a small brougham waiting close to the
curb, driven by a fellow with a heavy black cloak tipped at the collar
with red. Into this you will step, and you will reach Victoria in time
for the Continental express."
"Where shall I meet you?"
"At the station. The second first-class carriage from the front will be
reserved for us."
"The carriage is our rendezvous, then?"
"Yes."
It was in vain that I asked Holmes to remain for the evening. It was
evident to me that he thought he might bring trouble to the roof he was
under, and that that was the motive which impelled him to go. With a few
hurried words as to our plans for the morrow he rose and came out with
me into the garden, clambering over the wall which leads into Mortimer
Street, and immediately whistling for a hansom, in which I heard him
drive away.
In the morning I obeyed Holmes's injunctions to the letter. A hansom was
procured with such precaution as would prevent its being one which was
placed ready for us, and I drove immediately after breakfast to the
Lowther Arcade, through which I hurried at the top of my speed. A
brougham was waiting with a very massive driver wrapped in a dark cloak,
who, the instant that I had stepped in, whipped up the horse and rattled
off to Victoria Station. On my alighting there he turned the carriage,
and dashed away again without so much as a look in my direction.
So far all had gone admirably. My luggage was waiting for me, and I had
no difficulty in finding the carriage which Holmes had indicated, the
less so as it was the only one in the train which was marked "Engaged."
My only source of anxiety now was the non-appearance of Holmes. The
station clock marked only seven minutes from the time when we were
due to start. In vain I searched among the groups of travellers and
leave-takers for the lithe figure of my friend. There was no sign of
him. I spent a few minutes in assisting a venerable Italian priest, who
was endeavoring to make a porter understand, in his broken English,
that his luggage was to be booked through to Paris. Then, having taken
another look round, I returned to my carriage, where I found that the
porter, in spite of the ticket, had given me my decrepit Italian friend
as a traveling companion. It was useless for me to explain to him that
his presence was an intrusion, for my Italian was even more limited than
his English, so I shrugged my shoulders resignedly, and continued to
look out anxiously for my friend. A chill of fear had come over me, as I
thought that his absence might mean that some blow had fallen during the
night. Already the doors had all been shut and the whistle blown, when--
"My dear Watson," said a voice, "you have not even condescended to say
good-morning."
I turned in uncontrollable astonishment. The aged ecclesiastic had
turned his face towards me. For an instant the wrinkles were smoothed
away, the nose drew away from the chin, the lower lip ceased to protrude
and the mouth to mumble, the dull eyes regained their fire, the drooping
figure expanded. The next the whole frame collapsed again, and Holmes
had gone as quickly as he had come.
"Good heavens!" I cried; "how you startled me!"
"Every precaution is still necessary," he whispered. "I have reason to
think that they are hot upon our trail. Ah, there is Moriarty himself."
The train had already begun to move as Holmes spoke. Glancing back, I
saw a tall man pushing his way furiously through the crowd, and waving
his hand as if he desired to have the train stopped. It was too late,
however, for we were rapidly gathering momentum, and an instant later
had shot clear of the station.
"With all our precautions, you see that we have cut it rather fine,"
said Holmes, laughing. He rose, and throwing off the black cassock and
hat which had formed his disguise, he packed them away in a hand-bag.
"Have you seen the morning paper, Watson?"
"No."
"You haven't' seen about Baker Street, then?"
"Baker Street?"
"They set fire to our rooms last night. No great harm was done."
"Good heavens, Holmes! this is intolerable."
"They must have lost my track completely after their bludgeon-man was
arrested. Otherwise they could not have imagined that I had returned
to my rooms. They have evidently taken the precaution of watching you,
however, and that is what has brought Moriarty to Victoria. You could
not have made any slip in coming?"
"I did exactly what you advised."
"Did you find your brougham?"
"Yes, it was waiting."
"Did you recognize your coachman?"
"No."
"It was my brother Mycroft. It is an advantage to get about in such a
case without taking a mercenary into your confidence. But we must plan
what we are to do about Moriarty now."
"As this is an express, and as the boat runs in connection with it, I
should think we have shaken him off very effectively."
"My dear Watson, you evidently did not realize my meaning when I said
that this man may be taken as being quite on the same intellectual plane
as myself. You do not imagine that if I were the pursuer I should allow
myself to be baffled by so slight an obstacle. Why, then, should you
think so meanly of him?"
"What will he do?"
"What I should do?"
"What would you do, then?"
"Engage a special."
"But it must be late."
"By no means. This train stops at Canterbury; and there is always at
least a quarter of an hour's delay at the boat. He will catch us there."
"One would think that we were the criminals. Let us have him arrested on
his arrival."
"It would be to ruin the work of three months. We should get the big
fish, but the smaller would dart right and left out of the net. On
Monday we should have them all. No, an arrest is inadmissible."
"What then?"
"We shall get out at Canterbury."
"And then?"
"Well, then we must make a cross-country journey to Newhaven, and so
over to Dieppe. Moriarty will again do what I should do. He will get on
to Paris, mark down our luggage, and wait for two days at the depot.
In the meantime we shall treat ourselves to a couple of carpet-bags,
encourage the manufactures of the countries through which we travel, and
make our way at our leisure into Switzerland, via Luxembourg and Basle."
At Canterbury, therefore, we alighted, only to find that we should have
to wait an hour before we could get a train to Newhaven.
I was still looking rather ruefully after the rapidly disappearing
luggage-van which contained my wardrobe, when Holmes pulled my sleeve
and pointed up the line.
"Already, you see," said he.
Far away, from among the Kentish woods there rose a thin spray of smoke.
A minute later a carriage and engine could be seen flying along the open
curve which leads to the station. We had hardly time to take our place
behind a pile of luggage when it passed with a rattle and a roar,
beating a blast of hot air into our faces.
"There he goes," said Holmes, as we watched the carriage swing and
rock over the points. "There are limits, you see, to our friend's
intelligence. It would have been a coup-de-maitre had he deduced what I
would deduce and acted accordingly."
"And what would he have done had he overtaken us?"
"There cannot be the least doubt that he would have made a murderous
attack upon me. It is, however, a game at which two may play. The
question now is whether we should take a premature lunch here, or run
our chance of starving before we reach the buffet at Newhaven."
We made our way to Brussels that night and spent two days there, moving
on upon the third day as far as Strasburg. On the Monday morning Holmes
had telegraphed to the London police, and in the evening we found a
reply waiting for us at our hotel. Holmes tore it open, and then with a
bitter curse hurled it into the grate.
"I might have known it!" he groaned. "He has escaped!"
"Moriarty?"
"They have secured the whole gang with the exception of him. He has
given them the slip. Of course, when I had left the country there was no
one to cope with him. But I did think that I had put the game in their
hands. I think that you had better return to England, Watson."
"Why?"
"Because you will find me a dangerous companion now. This man's
occupation is gone. He is lost if he returns to London. If I read his
character right he will devote his whole energies to revenging himself
upon me. He said as much in our short interview, and I fancy that he
meant it. I should certainly recommend you to return to your practice."
It was hardly an appeal to be successful with one who was an
old campaigner as well as an old friend. We sat in the Strasburg
salle-a-manger arguing the question for half an hour, but the same night
we had resumed our journey and were well on our way to Geneva.
For a charming week we wandered up the Valley of the Rhone, and then,
branching off at Leuk, we made our way over the Gemmi Pass, still deep
in snow, and so, by way of Interlaken, to Meiringen. It was a lovely
trip, the dainty green of the spring below, the virgin white of the
winter above; but it was clear to me that never for one instant did
Holmes forget the shadow which lay across him. In the homely Alpine
villages or in the lonely mountain passes, I could tell by his quick
glancing eyes and his sharp scrutiny of every face that passed us,
that he was well convinced that, walk where we would, we could not walk
ourselves clear of the danger which was dogging our footsteps.
Once, I remember, as we passed over the Gemmi, and walked along
the border of the melancholy Daubensee, a large rock which had been
dislodged from the ridge upon our right clattered down and roared into
the lake behind us. In an instant Holmes had raced up on to the ridge,
and, standing upon a lofty pinnacle, craned his neck in every direction.
It was in vain that our guide assured him that a fall of stones was a
common chance in the spring-time at that spot. He said nothing, but
he smiled at me with the air of a man who sees the fulfillment of that
which he had expected.
And yet for all his watchfulness he was never depressed. On the
contrary, I can never recollect having seen him in such exuberant
spirits. Again and again he recurred to the fact that if he could
be assured that society was freed from Professor Moriarty he would
cheerfully bring his own career to a conclusion.
"I think that I may go so far as to say, Watson, that I have not lived
wholly in vain," he remarked. "If my record were closed to-night I could
still survey it with equanimity. The air of London is the sweeter for my
presence. In over a thousand cases I am not aware that I have ever used
my powers upon the wrong side. Of late I have been tempted to look into
the problems furnished by nature rather than those more superficial ones
for which our artificial state of society is responsible. Your memoirs
will draw to an end, Watson, upon the day that I crown my career by
the capture or extinction of the most dangerous and capable criminal in
Europe."
I shall be brief, and yet exact, in the little which remains for me to
tell. It is not a subject on which I would willingly dwell, and yet I am
conscious that a duty devolves upon me to omit no detail.
It was on the 3d of May that we reached the little village of Meiringen,
where we put up at the Englischer Hof, then kept by Peter Steiler the
elder. Our landlord was an intelligent man, and spoke excellent English,
having served for three years as waiter at the Grosvenor Hotel in
London. At his advice, on the afternoon of the 4th we set off together,
with the intention of crossing the hills and spending the night at the
hamlet of Rosenlaui. We had strict injunctions, however, on no account
to pass the falls of Reichenbach, which are about half-way up the hill,
without making a small detour to see them.
It is indeed, a fearful place. The torrent, swollen by the melting snow,
plunges into a tremendous abyss, from which the spray rolls up like the
smoke from a burning house. The shaft into which the river hurls itself
is an immense chasm, lined by glistening coal-black rock, and narrowing
into a creaming, boiling pit of incalculable depth, which brims over and
shoots the stream onward over its jagged lip. The long sweep of green
water roaring forever down, and the thick flickering curtain of spray
hissing forever upward, turn a man giddy with their constant whirl and
clamor. We stood near the edge peering down at the gleam of the breaking
water far below us against the black rocks, and listening to the
half-human shout which came booming up with the spray out of the abyss.
The path has been cut half-way round the fall to afford a complete view,
but it ends abruptly, and the traveler has to return as he came. We had
turned to do so, when we saw a Swiss lad come running along it with
a letter in his hand. It bore the mark of the hotel which we had just
left, and was addressed to me by the landlord. It appeared that within a
very few minutes of our leaving, an English lady had arrived who was in
the last stage of consumption. She had wintered at Davos Platz, and was
journeying now to join her friends at Lucerne, when a sudden hemorrhage
had overtaken her. It was thought that she could hardly live a few
hours, but it would be a great consolation to her to see an English
doctor, and, if I would only return, etc. The good Steiler assured me
in a postscript that he would himself look upon my compliance as a very
great favor, since the lady absolutely refused to see a Swiss physician,
and he could not but feel that he was incurring a great responsibility.
The appeal was one which could not be ignored. It was impossible to
refuse the request of a fellow-countrywoman dying in a strange land. Yet
I had my scruples about leaving Holmes. It was finally agreed, however,
that he should retain the young Swiss messenger with him as guide and
companion while I returned to Meiringen. My friend would stay some
little time at the fall, he said, and would then walk slowly over the
hill to Rosenlaui, where I was to rejoin him in the evening. As I turned
away I saw Holmes, with his back against a rock and his arms folded,
gazing down at the rush of the waters. It was the last that I was ever
destined to see of him in this world.
When I was near the bottom of the descent I looked back. It was
impossible, from that position, to see the fall, but I could see the
curving path which winds over the shoulder of the hill and leads to it.
Along this a man was, I remember, walking very rapidly.
I could see his black figure clearly outlined against the green behind
him. I noted him, and the energy with which he walked but he passed from
my mind again as I hurried on upon my errand.
It may have been a little over an hour before I reached Meiringen. Old
Steiler was standing at the porch of his hotel.
"Well," said I, as I came hurrying up, "I trust that she is no worse?"
A look of surprise passed over his face, and at the first quiver of his
eyebrows my heart turned to lead in my breast.
"You did not write this?" I said, pulling the letter from my pocket.
"There is no sick Englishwoman in the hotel?"
"Certainly not!" he cried. "But it has the hotel mark upon it! Ha, it
must have been written by that tall Englishman who came in after you had
gone. He said--"
But I waited for none of the landlord's explanations. In a tingle of
fear I was already running down the village street, and making for the
path which I had so lately descended. It had taken me an hour to come
down. For all my efforts two more had passed before I found myself at
the fall of Reichenbach once more. There was Holmes's Alpine-stock still
leaning against the rock by which I had left him. But there was no sign
of him, and it was in vain that I shouted. My only answer was my own
voice reverberating in a rolling echo from the cliffs around me.
It was the sight of that Alpine-stock which turned me cold and sick.
He had not gone to Rosenlaui, then. He had remained on that three-foot
path, with sheer wall on one side and sheer drop on the other, until his
enemy had overtaken him. The young Swiss had gone too. He had probably
been in the pay of Moriarty, and had left the two men together. And then
what had happened? Who was to tell us what had happened then?
I stood for a minute or two to collect myself, for I was dazed with the
horror of the thing. Then I began to think of Holmes's own methods and
to try to practise them in reading this tragedy. It was, alas, only too
easy to do. During our conversation we had not gone to the end of the
path, and the Alpine-stock marked the place where we had stood. The
blackish soil is kept forever soft by the incessant drift of spray,
and a bird would leave its tread upon it. Two lines of footmarks were
clearly marked along the farther end of the path, both leading away from
me. There were none returning. A few yards from the end the soil was
all ploughed up into a patch of mud, and the branches and ferns which
fringed the chasm were torn and bedraggled. I lay upon my face and
peered over with the spray spouting up all around me. It had darkened
since I left, and now I could only see here and there the glistening of
moisture upon the black walls, and far away down at the end of the shaft
the gleam of the broken water. I shouted; but only the same half-human
cry of the fall was borne back to my ears.
But it was destined that I should after all have a last word of greeting
from my friend and comrade. I have said that his Alpine-stock had been
left leaning against a rock which jutted on to the path. From the top of
this bowlder the gleam of something bright caught my eye, and, raising
my hand, I found that it came from the silver cigarette-case which he
used to carry. As I took it up a small square of paper upon which it
had lain fluttered down on to the ground. Unfolding it, I found that it
consisted of three pages torn from his note-book and addressed to me. It
was characteristic of the man that the direction was a precise, and the
writing as firm and clear, as though it had been written in his study.
My dear Watson [it said], I write these few lines through the courtesy
of Mr. Moriarty, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of
those questions which lie between us. He has been giving me a sketch
of the methods by which he avoided the English police and kept himself
informed of our movements. They certainly confirm the very high opinion
which I had formed of his abilities. I am pleased to think that I shall
be able to free society from any further effects of his presence, though
I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, and
especially, my dear Watson, to you. I have already explained to you,
however, that my career had in any case reached its crisis, and that
no possible conclusion to it could be more congenial to me than this.
Indeed, if I may make a full confession to you, I was quite convinced
that the letter from Meiringen was a hoax, and I allowed you to depart
on that errand under the persuasion that some development of this sort
would follow. Tell Inspector Patterson that the papers which he needs
to convict the gang are in pigeonhole M., done up in a blue envelope
and inscribed "Moriarty." I made every disposition of my property before
leaving England, and handed it to my brother Mycroft. Pray give my
greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow,
Very sincerely yours,
Sherlock Holmes
A few words may suffice to tell the little that remains. An examination
by experts leaves little doubt that a personal contest between the two
men ended, as it could hardly fail to end in such a situation, in their
reeling over, locked in each other's arms. Any attempt at recovering the
bodies was absolutely hopeless, and there, deep down in that dreadful
caldron of swirling water and seething foam, will lie for all time the
most dangerous criminal and the foremost champion of the law of their
generation. The Swiss youth was never found again, and there can be no
doubt that he was one of the numerous agents whom Moriarty kept in this
employ. As to the gang, it will be within the memory of the public
how completely the evidence which Holmes had accumulated exposed their
organization, and how heavily the hand of the dead man weighed
upon them. Of their terrible chief few details came out during the
proceedings, and if I have now been compelled to make a clear statement
of his career it is due to those injudicious champions who have
endeavored to clear his memory by attacks upon him whom I shall ever
regard as the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known.
More
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The Basilisk
Arriving in a beautiful meadow, he there saw several women, who were searching for something with great application. He took the liberty to approach one of them, and to ask if he might have the honor to assist them in their search. "Take care that... The Beetle-hunter
A curious experience? said the Doctor. Yes, my friends, I have had one very curious experience. I never expect to have another, for it is against all doctrines of chances that two such events would befall any one man in a single lifetime. You m... The Birth-mark
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE In the latter part of the last century, there lived a man of science--an eminent proficient in every branch of natural philosophy--who, not long before our story opens, had made experience of a spiritual affinity, more attra... The Black Cross
A black cross had been set against Judge Hawkins' name; why, it is not for me to say. We were not accustomed to explain our motives or to give reasons for our deeds. The deeds were enough, and this black cross meant death; and when it had been sho... The Black Doctor
Bishop's Crossing is a small village lying ten miles in a south- westerly direction from Liverpool. Here in the early seventies there settled a doctor named Aloysius Lana. Nothing was known locally either of his antecedents or of the reasons whi... The Blind Of One Eye
There lived at Babylon, in the reign of King Moabdar, a young man named Zadig, of a good natural disposition, strengthened and improved by education. Though rich and young, he had learned to moderate his passions; he had nothing stiff or affected ... The Boscombe Valley Mystery
We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way: "Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection wit... The Box With The Iron Clamps
FLORENCE MARRYAT I Molton Chase is a charming, old-fashioned country house, which has been in the possession of the Clayton family for centuries past; and as Harry Clayton, its present owner, has plenty of money, and (having tasted the ... The Brazilian Cat
It is hard luck on a young fellow to have expensive tastes, great expectations, aristocratic connections, but no actual money in his pocket, and no profession by which he may earn any. The fact was that my father, a good, sanguine, easy-going man... The Bronze Hand
I. THE FASCINATING UNKNOWN. HER room was on the ground floor of the house we mutually inhabited, and mine directly above it, so that my opportunities for seeing her were limited to short glimpses of her auburn head as she leaned out of the wi... The Cambered Foot
I shall not pretend that I knew the man in America or that he was a friend of my family or that some one had written to me about him. The plain truth is that I never laid eyes on him until Sir Henry Marquis pointed him out to me the day after I w... The Case Of He Golden Bullet
"Please, sir, there is a man outside who asks to see you." "What does he want?" asked Commissioner Horn, looking up. "He says he has something to report, sir." "Send him in, then." The attendant disappeared, and the commissioner looked ... The Case Of Lady Sannox
The relations between Douglas Stone and the notorious Lady Sannox were very well known both among the fashionable circles of which she was a brilliant member, and the scientific bodies which numbered him among their most illustrious confreres. Ther... The Case Of Mr Foggatt
Almost the only dogmatism that Martin Hewitt permitted himself in regard to his professional methods was one on the matter of accumulative probabilities. Often when I have remarked upon the apparently trivial nature of the clews by which he allowed ... The Case Of The Dixon Torpedo
Hewitt was very apt, in conversation, to dwell upon the many curious chances and coincidences that he had observed, not only in connection with his own cases, but also in matters dealt with by the official police, with whom he was on terms of pretty... The Case Of The Pocket Diary Found In The Snow
CHAPTER 1. THE DISCOVERY IN THE SNOW A quiet winter evening had sunk down upon the great city. The clock in the old clumsy church steeple of the factory district had not yet struck eight, when the side door of one of the large buildings ... The Case Of The Pool Of Blood In The Pastor's Study
I The sun rose slowly over the great bulk of the Carpathian mountains lying along the horizon, weird giant shapes in the early morning mist. It was still very quiet in the village. A cock crowed here and there, and swallows flew chirping clos... The Case Of The Registered Letter
"Oh, sir, save him if you can--save my poor nephew! I know he is innocent!" The little old lady sank back in her chair, gazing up at Commissioner von Riedau with tear-dimmed eyes full of helpless appeal. The commissioner looked thoughtful. ... The Closed Cabinet
I It was with a little alarm and a good deal of pleasurable excitement that I looked forward to my first grown-up visit to Mervyn Grange. I had been there several times as a child, but never since I was twelve years old, and now I was over e... The Coin Of Dionysius
It was eight o'clock at night and raining, scarcely a time when a business so limited in its clientele as that of a coin dealer could hope to attract any customer, but a light was still showing in the small shop that bore over its window the name ... The Combats
The queen was received at Babylon with all those transports of joy which are ever felt on the return of a beautiful princess who hath been involved in calamities. Babylon was now in greater tranquillity. The Prince of Hircania had been killed in b... The Confession
Marguerite de Therelles was dying. Although but fifty-six, she seemed like seventy-five at least. She panted, paler than the sheets, shaken by dreadful shiverings, her face convulsed, her eyes haggard, as if she had seen some horrible thing. He... The Conscript
On a November evening in the year 1793 the principal citizens of Carentan were assembled in Mme. de Dey's drawing-room. Mme. de Dey held this _reception_ every night of the week, but an unwonted interest attached to this evening's gathering, owi... The Corpus Delicti
I "That man Mason," said Samuel Walcott, "is the mysterious member of this club. He is more than that; he is the mysterious man of New York." "I was much surprised to see him," answered his companion, Marshall St. Clair, of the great law ... The Crooked Man
One summer night, a few months after my marriage, I was seated by my own hearth smoking a last pipe and nodding over a novel, for my day's work had been an exhausting one. My wife had already gone upstairs, and the sound of the locking of the hall... The Deposition
"I know nothing at all about it, your honor!" "Nothing at all? How can that be? It all happened within fifty yards of your shop." "'Nothing at all,' I said, ... in an off-hand way; but really, next to nothing. I am a barber, your honor, and H... The Diamond Lens
From a very early period of my life the entire bent of my inclinations had been towards microscopic investigations. When I was not more than ten years old, a distant relative of our family, hoping to astonish my inexperience, constructed a s... The Disappearance Of Lady Frances Carfax
"But why Turkish?" asked Mr. Sherlock Holmes, gazing fixedly at my boots. I was reclining in a cane-backed chair at the moment, and my protruded feet had attracted his ever-active attention. "English," I answered in some surprise. "I got t... The Disputes And The Audiences
In this manner he daily discovered the subtilty of his genius and the goodness of his heart. The people at once admired and loved him. He passed for the happiest man in the world. The whole empire resounded with his name. All the ladies ogled him.... The Doctor His Wife And The Clock
Violet had gone to her room. She had a task before her. That afternoon, a packet had been left at the door, which, from a certain letter scribbled in one corner, she knew to be from her employer. The contents of that packet must be read, and she had... The Dog And The Horse
Zadig found by experience that the first month of marriage, as it is written in the book of Zend, is the moon of honey, and that the second is the moon of wormwood. He was some time after obliged to repudiate Azora, who became too difficult to be ... The Dream Woman
I "Hullo, there! Hostler! Hullo-o-o!" "My dear! why don't you look for the bell?" "I have looked--there is no bell." "And nobody in the yard. How very extraordinary! Call again, dear." "Hostler! Hullo, there! Hostler-r-r!" My seco... The Dreaming Lady
"And this is all you mean to tell me?" "I think you will find it quite enough, Miss Strange." "Just the address--" "And this advice: that your call be speedy. Distracted nerves cannot wait." Violet, across whose wonted piquancy there lay a... The End Of The Road
The man laughed. It was a faint cynical murmur of a laugh. Its expression hardly disturbed the composition of his features. "I fear, Lady Muriel," he said, "that your profession is ruined. Our friend - `over the water' - is no longer concern... The Enigmas
Zadig, entranced, as it were, and like a man about whose head the thunder had burst, walked at random. He entered Babylon on the very day when those who had fought at the tournaments were assembled in the grand vestibule of the palace to explain t... The Envious Man
Zadig resolved to comfort himself by philosophy and friendship for the evils he had suffered from fortune. He had in the suburbs of Babylon a house elegantly furnished, in which he assembled all the arts and all the pleasures worthy the pursuit of... The Final Problem
It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write these the last words in which I shall ever record the singular gifts by which my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes was distinguished. In an incoherent and, as I deeply feel, an entirely inadequate f... The Fisherman
At a few leagues' distance from Arbogad's castle he came to the banks of a small river, still deploring his fate, and considering himself as the most wretched of mankind. He saw a fisherman lying on the brink of the river, scarcely holding, in his... The Five Orange Pips
When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases between the years '82 and '90, I am faced by so many which present strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know which to choose and which to leave. Some, howe... The Fortune Of Seth Savage
At one time the bogus-lottery men drove a thrifty business, but the efforts, virtually co-operative, of the post-office department and of the legislatures of the older states, have latterly pretty effectually forced them into the wilderness. The ... The Fortune Teller
Sir Henry Marquis continued to read; he made no comment; his voice clear and even. It was a big sunny room. The long windows looked out on a formal garden, great beech trees and the bow of the river. Within it was a sort of library. There ... The Fowl In The Pot
An Episode Adapted from the Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully What I am going to relate may seem to some merely to be curious and on a party with the diverting story of M. Boisrose, which I have set down in an earlier part of my m... The Funeral Pile
Setoc, charmed with the happy issue of this affair, made his slave his intimate friend. He had now conceived as great esteem for him as ever the King of Babylon had done; and Zadig was glad that Setoc had no wife. He discovered in his master a goo... The Generous
The time now arrived for celebrating a grand festival, which returned every five years. It was a custom in Babylon solemnly to declare at the end of every five years which of the citizens had performed the most generous action. The grandees and th... The Gloria Scott
"I have some papers here," said my friend Sherlock Holmes, as we sat one winter's night on either side of the fire, "which I really think, Watson, that it would be worth your while to glance over. These are the documents in the extraordinary case ... The Gold-bug
What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad! He hath been bitten by the Tarantula. --All in the Wrong. Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot fami... The Golden Ingot
I had just retired to rest, with my eyes almost blind with the study of a new work on physiology by M. Brown-Sequard, when the night bell was pulled violently. It was winter, and I confess I grumbled as I rose and went downstairs to open the do... The Golden Slipper
"She's here! I thought she would be. She's one of the three young ladies you see in the right-hand box near the proscenium." The gentleman thus addressed--a man of middle age and a member of the most exclusive clubs--turned his opera glass toward ... The Gray Madam
WAS it a specter? For days I could not answer this question. I am no believer in spiritual manifestations, yet--But let me tell my story. I was lodging with my wife on the first floor of a house in Twenty-seventh street. I had taken the apa... The Great Valdez Sapphire
I know more about it than anyone else in the world, its present owner not excepted. I can give its whole history, from the Cingalese who found it, the Spanish adventurer who stole it, the cardinal who bought it, the Pope who graciously accepted it... The Great Valdez Sapphire
(ANONYMOUS) I know more about it than anyone else in the world, its present owner not excepted. I can give its whole history, from the Cingalese who found it, the Spanish adventurer who stole it, the cardinal who bought it, the Pope who graciou... The Greek Interpreter
During my long and intimate acquaintance with Mr. Sherlock Holmes I had never heard him refer to his relations, and hardly ever to his own early life. This reticence upon his part had increased the somewhat inhuman effect which he produced upon me... The Grotto Spectre
Miss Strange was not often pensive--at least not at large functions or when under the public eye. But she certainly forgot herself at Mrs. Provost's musicale and that, too, without apparent reason. Had the music been of a high order one might have ... The Haunted And The Haunters Or The House And The Brain
A friend of mine, who is a man of letters and a philosopher, said to me one day, as if between jest and earnest, "Fancy! since we last met I have discovered a haunted house in the midst of London." "Really haunted,--and by what?--ghosts?" "We... The Hermit
While he was thus sauntering he met a hermit, whose white and venerable beard hung down to his girdle. He held a book in his hand, which he read with great attention. Zadig stopped, and made him a profound obeisance. The hermit returned the compli... The Hermit Of Street
CHAPTER I. I COMMIT AN INDISCRETION. I should have kept my eyes for the many brilliant and interesting sights constantly offered me. Another girl would have done so. I myself might have done so, had I been over eighteen, or, had I not come fro... The Hole In The Mahogany Panel
Sir Henry paused a moment, his finger between the pages of the ancient diary. "It is the inspirational quality in these cases" he said, "that impresses me. It is very nearly absent in our modern methods of criminal investigation. We depend no... The Horla Or Modern Ghosts
_May 8th._ What a lovely day! I have spent all the morning lying in the grass in front of my house, under the enormous plantain tree which covers it, and shades and shelters the whole of it. I like this part of the country and I am fond of living ... The Horror Of The Heights
The idea that the extraordinary narrative which has been called the Joyce-Armstrong Fragment is an elaborate practical joke evolved by some unknown person, cursed by a perverted and sinister sense of humour, has now been abandoned by all who have ... The Hostler's Story Told By Himself
IV It is now ten years ago since I got my first warning of the great trouble of my life in the Vision of a Dream. I shall be better able to tell you about it if you will please suppose yourselves to be drinking tea along with us in our little... The House By The Loch
There was a snapping fire in the chimney. I was cold through and I was glad to stand close beside it on the stone hearth. My greatcoat had kept out the rain, but it had not kept out the chill of the West Highland night. I shivered before the fi... The House Of Clocks
Miss Strange was not in a responsive mood. This her employer had observed on first entering; yet he showed no hesitation in laying on the table behind which she had ensconced herself in the attitude of one besieged, an envelope thick with enclosed p... The House That Was Not
BART FLEMING took his bride out to his ranch on the plains when she was but seventeen years old, and the two set up housekeeping in three hundred and twenty acres of corn and rye. Off toward the west there was an unbroken sea of tossing corn at... The Incantation
I "I believe that for at least twelve hours there will be no change in her state. I believe also that if she recover from it, calm and refreshed, as from a sleep, the danger of death will have passed away." "And for twelve hours my presen... The Inmost Light
One evening in autumn, when the deformities of London were veiled in faint, blue mist and its vistas and far-reaching streets seemed splendid, Mr. Charles Salisbury was slowly pacing down Rupert Street, drawing nearer to his favourite restau... The Invisible Eye
About this time (said Christian), poor as a church mouse, I took refuge in the roof of an old house in Minnesaenger Street, Nuremberg, and made my nest in the corner of the garret. I was compelled to work over my straw bed to reach the window, b... The Japanned Box
It WAS a curious thing, said the private tutor; one of those grotesque and whimsical incidents which occur to one as one goes through life. I lost the best situation which I am ever likely to have through it. But I am glad that I went to Thorpe ... The Jew's Breastplate
My particular friend, Ward Mortimer, was one of the best men of his day at everything connected with Oriental archaeology. He had written largely upon the subject, he had lived two years in a tomb at Thebes, while he excavated in the Valley of th... The Knight's Cross Signal Problem
"Louis," exclaimed Mr. Carrados, with the air of genial gaiety that Carlyle had found so incongruous to his conception of a blind man, "you have a mystery somewhere about you! I know it by your step." Nearly a month had passed since the incident... The Last Adventure
The talk had run on treasure. I could not sleep and my friends had dropped in. I had the big South room on the second floor of the Hotel de Paris. It looks down on the Casino and the Mediterranean. Perhaps you know it. Queer friends, you'd... The Last Exploit Of Harry The Actor
The one insignificant fact upon which turned the following incident in the joint experiences of Mr. Carlyle and Max Carrados was merely this: that having called upon his friend just at the moment when the private detective was on the point of leav... The Leather Funnel
My friend, Lionel Dacre, lived in the Avenue de Wagram, Paris. His house was that small one, with the iron railings and grass plot in front of it, on the left-hand side as you pass down from the Arc de Triomphe. I fancy that it had been there long...