The Last Confession of Sherlock Holmes Read Online Free Page B

narrowly behind us. With startling ease over such terrain, Holmes would be upon the summit of the ridge before the boulder had lost its velocity, always returning with a glint of understanding in his eye. Even amongst the well-trodden paths, he often found hints of our dogged pursuer.
    â€œYou see, Watson,” said he, delicately poised over a set of prints in the snow. “These are the traces of a very particular pair of shoes: hand-crafted personally by Mr John Lobb, for Professor Moriarty. I observed him wearing such a pair upon his visit to Baker Street: the model and shape are identical, while the indent in the snow matches the height of the heel to that of the Professor’s. You will also notice that these prints are always trodden into a larger set. Moriarty is trying his utmost to conceal his tracks.”
    â€œBut how can you be sure of your conclusions, Holmes?” I replied. “Could the tracks not simply have been made by a taller man with a larger foot than Moriarty?”
    â€œIf you observe, all will unfold. Take note of the size of the larger print, as well as the length of the stride. Then, if we observe the secondary print, its relative size and position within the larger is quite clearly out of proportion. It is possible, of course, that Moriarty is trying to throw us off the scent, but owing to his burning haste to ‘bring destruction upon me’, I would consider such a hypothesis highly unlikely.”
    â€œYou believe Moriarty has brought a brigade of henchmen upon the Continent, and they are travelling in single file to hide their numbers?”
    â€œNo, Watson; unfortunately, I believe he has only brought the one, though as you correctly deduce, they are undoubtedly travelling in single file. Moriarty would not prematurely risk his exposure by naively relying upon orchestrating a small battalion. It is most likely that he has brought with him his most capable of servants, Colonel Sebastian Moran.”
    Moran is a most distinctly unpleasant individual. Considered amongst military circles as one of the top marksmen in Europe, he was deemed too dangerous for the British Army in India, and upon his return to London continued to build an evil reputation. His talents did not go unnoticed by Moriarty. After a short period of service Moran was readily promoted as Moriarty’s Chief-of-Staff, and was called upon only for jobs of the utmost importance: it was for this reason that Holmes referred to him as ‘the second most dangerous man in London.’ Until this juncture, my nerves had been steady; I had believed that Holmes and I were a match for any pursuer, but such is the reputation of Moran that I could not help but feel a slight quiver of fear. I was sure we continued to draw breath only because Moriarty wished to personally murder my friend in cold blood.
    Despite our daunting pursuers, Holmes insisted we continue on our journey, soon passing through Interlaken and arriving at the village of Meiringen on the third of May. We found accommodation for the night at a small hotel named the Englishcher Hof, whose owner, Peter Steiler the elder, spoke fluent English, having waited tables at the Grosvenor Hotel in London for three years. It was his advice that, having rested comfortably, Holmes and I should visit the hamlet of Rosenlaui; but also that under no circumstances should we pass up the opportunity of a visit to the falls of Reichenbach along the way.
    Never have I laid eyes upon such terrifying beauty. The cascading torrent burst over the inadequate lip as the relentless waves plunged into a void of jagged, coal-black rock: the merciless entrance to an eternal chasm. Deep from within the depths of this perpetual abyss arose great towers of spray, encompassing the grand fortification. As Holmes and I gazed into this ominous, yet mesmerising feat of nature, we listened to the faceless haunting choir, echoing from the elusive chamber from within the very heart of the