SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
PARTS:
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Prev | Current Page 424 | Next

Doyle, Arthur Conan

"The Memoirs Of Sherlock Holmes"

The blackish soil is kept forever soft by the incessant drift of spray, and a bird would leave its tread upon it. Two lines of footmarks were clearly marked along the farther end of the path, both leading away from me. There were none returning. A few yards from the end the soil was all ploughed up into a patch of mud, and the brambles and ferns which fringed the chasm were torn and bedraggled. I lay upon my face and peered over with the spray spouting up all around me. It had darkened since I left, and now I could only see here and there the glistening of moisture upon the black walls, and far away down at the end of the shaft the gleam of the broken water. I shouted; but only that same half-human cry of the fall was borne back to my ears.


? ? ? ? But it was destined that I should, after all, have a last word of greeting from my friend and comrade. I have said that his Alpine-stock had been left leaning against a rock which jutted on to the path. From the top of this bowlder the gleam of something bright caught my eye, and raising my hand I found that it came from the silver cigarette-case which he used to carry. As I took it up a small square of paper upon which it had lain fluttered down on to the ground. Unfolding it, I found that it consisted of three pages torn from his notebook and addressed to me.


Pages:
412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427

You Never Can Tell (page 78) The Great Adventure (page 53) The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 110, December, 1866 A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics (page 93)