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opponent! Finally I have an adversary wholly worthy of my powers! To destroy him will set a fitting crown upon my life’s work. And if I fail – But no! I must not fail. There can be no question of that! The consequences would be unthinkable.’
    Never had I seen Holmes display such agitation as in uttering these last words. It was as if he found himself doubting his own powers for the first time. In another moment he was master of himself again, and all purposeful energy, but that single glimpse of the inner man disturbed me far more than all the dreadful news I had heard that morning.
    Holmes spent the afternoon at Scotland Yard, returning for dinner in a mood of taciturn introspection. After the meal, which we ate in silence, he retired to the acid-stained table in the corner and busied himself with his retorts and test-tubes. I took myself out for a walk, and went early to bed. The next morning our front room reeked of some malodorous compound which Holmeshad brewed up in what had evidently been a late sitting. Of Holmes himself there was no sign until almost midday, when he emerged from his room dressed as the shabbiest tatterdemalion imaginable, and announced coolly that he would spend the next three days in Whitechapel.
    ‘You mean to leave me behind then?’ I cried in dismay.
    ‘No, no. But you cannot assist me at this juncture. Fear not, though, you shall miss none of the sport.’
    ‘Might I not at least tag along?’
    ‘Tut, Watson! It wouldn’t do, old fellow. I shall spend my time mingling with the people of the district. As you see, I intend to pass as one of themselves. Now I think you would agree that your dramatic talents do not extend much beyond the occasional recitation of “The boy stood on the burning deck” at yuletide festivities, whereas I must come and go in houses which the police themselves will not enter. If the folk there suspected for an instant that I was a “toff” I should be in great danger of leaving the premises horizontally.’
    ‘That’s all very well, Holmes, but you cannot expect me to sit idly by while you battle this fiend alone!’
    ‘By no means. On the contrary, if things turn out as I expect I shall be only too glad of your support. As you know, I maintain a number of small refuges in various parts of London, and one of these is situated quite conveniently close to the scene of these crimes. I intend to put up there. It is too small to accommodate us both – a mere glory-hole – but Lestrade is to call for me if a murder is discovered, and I shall at once dispatch a cab to bring you to the spot.’
    They also serve, the poem says, who only stand and wait. Perhaps their service is in fact the more arduous. Certainly it seemed so that evening as I sat alone in Baker Street, gazing into the fire and wondering what Holmeswas about and what hazards he was facing and what the outcome would be. At eleven o’clock I lit my candle and went upstairs. I lay down fully clothed on my bed, and after a time sleep claimed me.
    At half past two a rapping at my bedroom door awoke me from a fitful slumber. I was grateful for the interruption, for I had been visited by a fantastic and terrible dream in which I seemed to be following a woman down a dreary street, a knife in my hand. From such unwholesome phantoms even the rudest awakening comes as a welcome relief. At the door I discovered Mrs Hudson’s Billy, clad in a woollen wrap and shaking with cold and excitement.
    ‘There’s a cab for you down below, sir,’ said the youth. ‘Mr Holmes ‘as sent for you, seein’ as which there’s bin another ’orrible murder!’
    The situation had proved too much for Billy’s grammar, but his meaning could not have been clearer. I fetched my hat and coat and hurried down. But it soon seemed that I had shaken off my dreams only to enter a world equally spectral and oppressive. The hansom bucked and swayed through deserted streets. A chill wind had laid waste the city. How many of all