to myself I'd better come and thank that kind gentleman for picking up my books."

"That's all right. But may I ask you how you knew who I was?"

"Well, sir, we live in the same street; you will find my little bookshop at the corner of Church Street and I'll be very happy to see you, I'm sure. Maybe you collect books yourself."

"I looked at the bookshelves behind me. When I turned again, Sherlock Holmes was standing by my table smiling at me. I stared at him with the greatest surprise and for the first time in my life I fainted." When I opened my eyes again, I saw Holmes holding a bottle of brandy in his hand.

"My dear Watson," said the well-remembered voice, "I am so sorry. I did not suppose I might frighten you so much."

“Holmes”, I cried, “is it really you? Can it indeed be that you are alive? Is it possible that you succeeded in climbing out of that abyss?”

“Wait a moment”, he said. “Are you sure that you are really able to discuss things? I have given you a serious shock”.

"I am all right, Holmes, but I can hardly believe my eyes. Sit down and tell me everything."

He sat opposite to me and lit a cigarette. He looked thin and his face showed that his life recently had not been a healthy one.

"Well then, about this abyss. I had no difficulty in getting out of it because I never was in it."

"You never were in it?"

"No, Watson, I never was in it. What I wrote to you in my letter was quite true. I was almost certain that I had come to the end of my career." After I had left the note with my cigarette-case, I walked along the path and Moriarty followed me. When we reached the end, he rushed at me. He was very strong but I knew baritsu, the Japanese system of fighting, and I won. I saw him fall into the water."

I listened with surprise to this explanation.

"But I saw with my own eyes that two lines of footmarks went down the path and none returned.

"It happened in this way. I knew that Moriarty was not the only man who wanted to murder me. There were at least three others. One or the other would certainly get me. On the other hand if all the world thought I was dead they would feel safe and I could easily catch them. I decided not to come back the way we went before but to climb the rocks. When I was going up the mountain a stone fell to the ground. I knew it was thrown by one of Moriarty’s companions. However, I went on. It was getting dark and the man could not see me. A week later I arrived in Florence and no one except my brother Mycroft knew where I was. I travelled for two years in Tibet and in Persia. Then I went to France. I learned that only one of Moriarty's companions was now in London. I was about to return" when the news of Roriald's death reached me and I decided to come at once.

"Now, dear Watson, we have if I may ask you for you help, a dangerous night's work in front of us. You will come with me tonight?"

"When you like and where you like."

"This is, indeed, like the old days."

At half past nine that evening I was sitting beside Holmes in a cab, my revolver in my pocket and the thrill of adventure in my heart. Holmes was cold and silent. I did not know where we were going but I was sure that the adventure was a most serious one. We stopped the cab at the corner of Cavendish Square and walked through many streets until we came to a small house. Holmes opened with a key the back door of this house. We entered together and he closed the door. The house was empty. We turned to the right and found ourselves in a large room. There was no lamp near but it was lit in the centre from the lights of the street.

"Do you know where we are?" Holmes asked.

"Surely that is Baker Street," I answered looking through the window.

"Exactly. We are in the house which stands opposite to our old house."

"But why are we here?"

"Because I would like to look at our old rooms. Will you come a little nearer to the window and see if anything has changed during the three years of my absence?"

I looked across at our old window and gave a cry of surprise. There was a man sitting on a chair there. A strong light was burning in the room. The face was turned half-round and it was a perfect reproduction" of Holmes.

"Good heavens!" I cried. "It is wonderful."

Holmes smiled.

"It really is rather like me, isn't?"

"Everyone would think it was you."

"It is figure of wax" and it has been made by a French artist who spent some days working at it. The rest I arranged myself during my visit to Baker Street this afternoon."

"But why?"

"Because I wanted certain people to think that I was there."

"And you thought the rooms were watched?"

"I knew they were watched."

"By whom?"

"By Professor Moriarty's friends. You must remember that they knew, and only they knew I was alive. They believed I should come back to my rooms."

My friend's plans were clear to me at last. We stood silently in darkness and watched the hurrying figures who passed in front of us. I especially noticed two men who stood at the door of the house. I showed them to Holmes but he only gave a cry of impatience and continued to watch the street. I looked at the lighted window again and to my great surprise I saw that the wax figure had moved and it was no more the face but the back that was turned towards us.

"It has moved!" I cried.

"Of course, it has moved," said Holmes. “Mrs. Hudson has made some change in that figure eight times during the last two hours. She works it from the front so that her shadow may never be seen”

Suddenly I heard a sound coming from the back of the house in which we were hidden. A door opened and shut. A minute later a man came into the room. He was three yards from us and I realised that he had no idea of our presence. He went to the window. He carried something like a stick but soon I saw it was a sort of gun. He opened the window and the light of the street fell full upon his face. The man seemed to be very excited. His two eyes shone like stars. He took something from the pocket of his coat and put it into the gun. For some time he stood listening. Then he put his finger on the trigger" and fired. There was a sound of broken glass. At that moment Holmes jumped like a tiger on to the man's back and knocked him down. The man was up again in a moment but then I struck him with my revolver. He fell to the floor and I fell on him. As I held him my friend blew on a whistle." Two policemen in uniform with one detective rushed through the front door and into the room.

"Is that you, Lestrade?" asked Holmes.

"Yes, Mr Holmes. It's good to see you back in London, sir."

“I think you want a little unofficial help. Three undetected murders in one year won't do”.

We had all stood up. The policemen held the prisoner. Holmes went to the window and closed it. Lestrade lit two candles. I was able at last to have a good look at our prisoner. He was a strong man with cruel blue eyes and an aggressive nose. He did not look at any of us but his eyes were fixed at Holmes's face.

“You fiend” he kept on saying. “You clever, clever fiend”.

"Ah, Colonel," said Holmes. "I don't think I have had the pleasure of seeing you since the time when you showed so much interest in me at the Reichenbach Falls."

The colonel still stared at my friend.

"You clever, clever fiend!" was all he could say.

"I haven't introduced you yet," said Holmes. "This gentleman is Colonel" Sebastian Moran, once an off icer of the Indian Army and the best shot in our Eastern Empire. I believe I am right, Colonel, in saying that your bag of tigers is still the greatest there."

The man said nothing but looked at my friend very angrily.

"I must say that you had one small surprise for me," continued Holmes. "I did not expect you would make use of this empty house. I thought you would shoot from the street where my friend Lestrade and his men were waiting for you. With that exception" all has gone as I expected."

Holmes picked up the gun from the floor and was examining its mechanism.

"An admirable gun,"'4 he said. "I knew the mechanic who constructed it to the order of Professor Moriarty. Take care of it, Lestrade."

"We will look after that," said Lestrade. "Anything else to say?"

"Only to ask you what Colonel Moran will be charged" with?"

"With the attempted murder of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, of course."

"Not so, Lestrade. I do not want to appear in the matter at all. You have got the man who shot Ronald Adair with the bullet from an air-gun through the open window of the second floor front of No 427 Park Lane on the thirtieth of last month. That's the charge. Yes, Lestrade. I congratulate you on your success. And now, Watson, let us go and have a smoke in my old study."

Mrs. Hudson was very pleased to see us again. She took us the room and showed us the strange wax figure.

"I'm afraid the bullet has spoilt the figure because it passed right through the head. I picked it up from the floor. Here it is."

Holmes held it out to me.

"Look, Watson. A soft revolver bullet. Who would expect to find such a thing fired from an air-gun! All right, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you f or your help. And now, Watson, sit down in your old armchair once more. There are many things I would like to discuss with you."

He took his clothes from the wax figure and put them on, and now he was the Holmes of old.

"Well," he said, "Moran was the best shot in India and there are few better in London. Have you heard his name?" "No, I haven't."

"Well, well, such is fame. But if I remember right, you had not heard the name of Professor Moriarty who was one of the most intelligent men of the century. Just give me my index of biographies from the shelf."

He turned over several pages and gave the book back to me. I read:

Moran, Sebastian, Colonel. Unemployed. Born in London 1840. Son of Mr. Augustus Moran, once British Minister to Persia. Educated in Eton and Oxford. Served in the army in the Eastern Empire. Author of several books on hunting. Address: Conduit Street.

On the margin" was written in Holmes's hand:

The second most dangerous man in London.

"This is surprising," I said. "The man's career is that of a good soldier."

"Yes," Holmes answered, "at first he did well. But he began to go wrong and had to leave India. He came to London and it was at this time that he met Professor Moriarty. Moriarty gave him a lot of money and used him in the most difficult jobs. You remember when I called on you in 1887 I closed the shutters because I was afraid of air-guns. I knew of the existence" of this air-gun and I knew also that it would be used by one of the best shots.