"Thank you." The man clasped the visitor's hand.
"Yes," the visitor finally lied, looking away. The silence lingered, broken only by the breath of the wind, the shaky gusts through the dying man's lips. I would have flung myself into that chasm rather than harm a hair of his head." Sherlock Holmes was the best and wisest man I have ever known. The fate of my body is sealed the fate of my soul I leave to God but you are my last chance to save what remains of my reputation. "I'm not the one you have to convince, Dr. The visitor knelt by the man, his rat-like face sympathetic. The man lay on the straw pallet, pale and worn, focused on his visitor. There was no halting them, no silencing the cry of "Guilty!"Ī prison cell, surprisingly bright and clean, but filled with the lingering odor of illness. He knew the man spoke the truth, but the jury did not see him, did not hear him, a ghost in the courtroom. Throughout the trial, the man was silent, only speaking once: "I did not kill him. Sherlock Holmes floated over the witness stand and watched the man who sat in the box, brown hair lightly sprinkled with grey, moustache unkempt. A jeering crowd massed at the doors outside, but within the courtroom, all was somber.
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