iles over the
mountains in the darkness, and a week later I found myself in Florence,
with the certainty that no one in the world knew what had become of me.

"I had only one confidant--my brother Mycroft. I owe you many apologies,
my dear Watson, but it was all-important that it should be thought I
was dead, and it is quite certain that you would not have written so
convincing an account of my unhappy end had you not yourself thought
that it was true. Several times during the last three years I have taken
up my pen to write to you, but always I feared lest your affectionate
regard for me should tempt you to some indiscretion which would betray
my secret. For that reason I turned away from you this evening when
you upset my books, for I was in danger at the time, and any show of
surprise and emotion upon your part might have drawn attention to my
identity and led to the most deplorable and irreparable results. As to
Mycroft, I had to confide in him in order to obtain the money which
I needed. The course of events in London did not run so well as I had
hoped, for the trial of the Moriarty gang left two of its most dangerous
members, my own most vindictive enemies, at liberty. I travelled for
two years in Tibet, therefore, and amused myself by visiting Lhassa,
and spending some days with the head lama. You may have read of the
remarkable explorations of a Norwegian named Sigerson, but I am sure
that it never occurred to you that you were receiving news of your
friend. I then passed through Persia, looked in at Mecca, and paid a
short but interesting visit to the Khalifa at Khartoum the results of
which I have communicated to the Foreign Office. Returning to France, I
spent some months in a research into the coal-tar derivatives, which I
conducted in a laboratory at Montpellier, in the south of France. Having
concluded this to my satisfaction and learning that only one of my
enemies was now left in London, I was about to return when my movements
were hastened by the news of this very remarkable Park Lane Mystery,
which not only appealed to me by its own merits, but which seemed to
offer some most peculiar personal opportunities. I came over at once to
London, called in my own person at Baker Street, threw Mrs. Hudson into
violent hysterics, and found that Mycroft had preserved my rooms and my
papers exactly as they had always been. So it was, my dear Watson, that
at two o'clock to-day I found myself in my old armchair in my