Slowly the shadows darkened over the
long, sombre face of the old house. A cold, damp reek from the
moat chilled us to the bones and set our teeth chattering. There
was a single lamp over the gateway and a steady globe of light in
the fatal study. Everything else was dark and still.
"How long is this to last?" asked the inspector finally. "And
what is it we are watching for?"
"I have no more notion than you how long it is to last," Holmes
answered with some asperity. "If criminals would always schedule
their movements like railway trains, it would certainly be more
convenient for all of us. As to what it is we--Well, THAT'S what
we are watching for!"
As he spoke the bright, yellow light in the study was obscured by
somebody passing to and fro before it. The laurels among which
we lay were immediately opposite the window and not more than a
hundred feet from it. Presently it was thrown open with a
whining of hinges, and we could dimly see the dark outline of a
man's head and shoulders looking out into the gloom. For some
minutes he peered forth in furtive, stealthy fashion, as one who
wishes to be assured that he is unobserved.
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