Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk
forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he
lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue
smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling.
"I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases
we have had none more fantastic than this."
"Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four."
"Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw
seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the
Sholtos."
"But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to
what these perils are?"
"There can be no question as to their nature," he answered.
"Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he
pursue this unhappy family?"
Sherlock Holmes closed
