I walked up to the framhouse slowly. the door was broken and I look inside. the framhouse was empty and silent. Part or the framhouse was dry where the roof was not broken. there was a wood fire in the floor and a bed in the corn. A lamp stood on a table with a pile of papers next to it.
I went into the framhouse carefully. I put my hand into my jacket pocket where I kept my arm revolver. I walked slowly to the table and looked at the pile of papres. I saw one of my own letter. someone had stolen one of my own letters! who lived inthe framhouse? we it the man with the black beard? Was it the man I had seen on the Tor?
I soon found out, as I heard the sound of footsteps outside. I took my revolver out of my pocket and turned toward the door. A tall thin man stood in the doorway with his back to the setting sun. I could not see his fae. It is a lovely evening isn't it Watson?the man said.The man was Sherlock Holmes.