The Adventure of the Dying Detective | Page 8

that I knew the
worst might have happened in my absence. To my enormous relief, he had improved
greatly in the interval. His appearance was as ghastly as ever, but all trace of delirium had
left him and he spoke in a feeble voice, it is true, but with even more than his usual
crispness and lucidity.
"Well, did you see him, Watson?"
"Yes; he is coming."
"Admirable, Watson! Admirable! You are the best of messengers."
"He wished to return with me."
"That would never do, Watson. That would be obviously impossible. Did he ask what
ailed me?"
"I told him about the Chinese in the East End."
"Exactly! Well, Watson, you have done all that a good friend could. You can now
disappear from the scene."
"I must wait and hear his opinion, Holmes."
"Of course you must. But I have reasons to suppose that this opinion would be very much
more frank and valuable if he imagines that we are alone. There is just room behind the
head of my bed, Watson."
"My dear Holmes!"
"I fear there is no alternative, Watson. The room does not lend itself to concealment,
which is as well, as it is the less likely to arouse suspicion. But just there, Watson, I fancy

that it could be done." Suddenly he sat up with a rigid intentness upon his haggard face.
"There are the wheels, Watson. Quick, man, if you love me! And don't budge, whatever
happens--whatever happens, do you hear? Don't speak! Don't move! Just listen with all
your ears." Then in an instant his sudden access of strength departed, and his masterful,
purposeful talk droned away into the low, vague murmurings of a semi-delirious man.
>From the hiding-place into which I had been so swiftly hustled I heard the footfalls
upon the stair, with the opening and the closing of the bedroom door. Then, to my
surprise, there came a long silence, broken only by the heavy breathings and gaspings of
the sick man. I could imagine that our visitor was standing by the bedside and looking
down at the sufferer. At last that strange hush was broken.
"Holmes!" he cried. "Holmes!" in the insistent tone of one who awakens a sleeper. "Can't
you hear me, Holmes?" There was a rustling, as if he had shaken the sick man roughly by
the shoulder.
"Is that you, Mr. Smith?" Holmes whispered. "I hardly dared hope that you would come."
The other laughed.
"I should imagine not," he said. "And yet, you see, I am here. Coals of fire,
Holmes--coals of fire!"
"It is very good of you--very noble of you. I appreciate your special knowledge."
Our visitor sniggered.
"You do. You are, fortunately, the only man in London who does. Do you know what is
the matter with you?"
"The same," said Holmes.
"Ah! You recognize the symptoms?"
"Only too well."
"Well, I shouldn't be surprised, Holmes. I shouldn't be surprised if it WERE the same. A
bad lookout for you if it is. Poor Victor was a dead man on the fourth day--a strong,
hearty young fellow. It was certainly, as you said, very surprising that he should have
contracted and out-of-the-way Asiatic disease in the heart of London--a disease, too, of
which I had made such a very special study. Singular coincidence, Holmes. Very smart of
you to notice it, but rather uncharitable to suggest that it was cause and effect."
"I knew that you did it."
"Oh, you did, did you? Well, you couldn't prove it, anyhow. But what do you think of
yourself spreading reports about me like that, and then crawling to me for help the
moment you are in trouble? What sort of a game is that--eh?"

I heard the rasping, laboured breathing of the sick man. "Give me the water!" he gasped.
"You're precious near your end, my friend, but I don't want you to go till I have had a
word with you. That's why I give you water. There, don't slop it about! That's right. Can
you understand what I say?"
Holmes groaned.
"Do what you can for me. Let bygones be bygones," he whispered. "I'll put the words out
of my head--I swear I will. Only cure me, and I'll forget it."
"Forget what?"
"Well, about Victor Savage's death. You as good as admitted just now that you had done
it. I'll forget it."
"You can forget it or remember it, just as you like. I don't see you in the witnessbox.
Quite another shaped box, my good Holmes, I assure you. It matters nothing to me that
you should know how my nephew died. It's not him we are talking about. It's you."
"Yes, yes."
"The fellow who came for me--I've forgotten his name--said that you contracted it down
in the East End