I wanted to call to him, but was afraid he would not be pleased. Instead, I decided to follow secretly, ready to help him if he needed me.
We walked and walked. The rain became heavier and the streets emptied of people. Then a short fat man passed me, and soon afterwards a girl. She looked like a woman of the streets, but younger and
prettier than most I had seen that night. She seemed a little drunk, and could not walk straight.
As she came near to Holmes, he stopped and spoke to her.
They both laughed. Further along the street I saw the short fat man, now standing outside a pub, watching them. Then Holmes and the girl walked off together and a few seconds later the man followed them. How I feared for Holmes's safety! I was sure that the man and the girl were working for Moriarty. They had some plan, I knew, to hurt my friend. Perhaps only I could save him.
Holmes and the girl walked on, the man followed them, and I followed all three. At last Holmes and the girl stopped at the entrance to a yard. I heard the woman's voice. I could not hear Holmes's words, bur to my surprise I clearly saw him kiss her face. Then they entered the yard, and the fat man crossed the street and went into a house further along. Had he gone to fetch Moriarty, who would now appear and kill my friend?
Slowly and carefully, I made my way into the yard. It was dark, but I could see a light at a window. Then I heard Holmes's voice. He was in that room.
As quietly as I could, I went to the window. The curtains were a little too short, and I could just see into the room. The woman was lying on the bed, drinking from a bottle. Holmes sat with his back to the window, taking snuff from a little silver box. He seemed to be in no danger, but who could say when Moriarty would arrive?
It was cold and wet in the yard, but I felt calm again. If Moriarty came, I was ready to save my friend. I sat down with my back to the wall to wait.
I am ashamed to say what happened next, but I must say it.
I fell asleep. I was asleep for two hours. As I woke up, cold and uncomfortable, Holmes's words came back to me, 'He will kill twice tonight.'
I ran to the window, afraid of what I should see. At first I could not understand what terrible thing had happened there. Was it possible, I wondered, for a person to explode? There was blood everywhere. Then I recognized the body as the woman who I had seen drinking and talking with Sherlock Holmes. He was
still with her, bur he was not dead. No, much worse than dead. He was alive. He had a knife in his hand, and he was cutting up her face and her body. Even as I watched, he was carefully cutting the leg down to the bone, taking off a long piece of meat in his other hand.
And as he cut the woman to pieces, he was singing .
4 Moriarty is dead
As a soldier and a doctor, I know that a man who is very badly hurt in battle often feels no pain. If he lives, he remembers nothing about what has happened to him. After that terrible night in Whitechapel, I was like that man. The next day, I woke up and found myself lying in a park. My watch and my money had gone, and I was cold and dirty. I knew that I had spent many hours drinking, but I did not know where I had been, or what had happened to me.
I did not want to go to Baker Street, because I was afraid that Holmes would be there, but I needed a bath and dry clothes. In the end, I paid a cab-driver to knock on the door. The house was empty, so I went in.
There was a telegram from Holmes. 'M has escaped us,' it said. 'He is trying to leave the country, but I am following him.' I did not know what to think. Was I mad, or was my best friend, the man who I had worked with for so many years, a murderer?