The fingers which clutched me were
quivering. Never had I known my friend more moved, and yet the
dark street still stretched lonely and motionless before us.
But suddenly I was aware of that which his keener senses had
already distinguished. A low, stealthy sound came to my ears,
not from the direction of Baker Street, but from the back of the
very house in which we lay concealed. A door opened and shut.
An instant later steps crept down the passage -- steps which
were meant to be silent, but which reverberated harshly through
the empty house. Holmes crouched back against the wall and I
did the same, my hand closing upon the handle of my revolver.
Peering through the gloom, I saw the vague outline of a man,
a shade blacker than the blackness of the open door. He stood
for an instant, and then he crept forward, crouching, menacing,
into the room. He was within three yards of us, this sinister
figure, and I had braced myself to meet his spring, before I
realized that he had no idea of our presence. He passed close
beside us, stole over to the window, and very softly and
noiselessly raised it for half a foot.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47