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The Valley Of Fear by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle



PART 1
The Tragedy of Birlstone



Chapter 1
The Warning

"I am inclined to think -- " said I.

"I should do so," Sherlock Holmes remarked impatiently.

I believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals;
but I'll admit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption.

"Really, Holmes," said I severely, "you are a little trying at times."

He was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to give any
immediate answer to my remonstrance. He leaned upon his
hand, with his untasted breakfast before him, and he stared at the
slip of paper which he had just drawn from its envelope. Then he
took the envelope itself, held it up to the light, and very carefully
studied both the exterior and the flap.

"It is Porlock's writing," said he thoughtfully. "I can hardly
doubt that it is Porlock's writing, though I have seen it only
twice before. The Greek e with the peculiar top flourish is
distinctive. But if it is Porlock, then it must be something of the
very first importance."

He was speaking to himself rather than to me; but my vexation
disappeared in the interest which the words awakened.

"Who then is Porlock?" I asked.

"Porlock, Watson, is a nom-de-plume, a mere identification
mark; but behind it lies a shifty and evasive personality. In a
former letter he frankly informed me that the name was not his
own, and defied me ever to trace him among the teeming millions
of this great city. Porlock is important, not for himself, but
for the great man with whom he is in touch. Picture to yourself
the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion -- anything
that is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable:
not only formidable, Watson, but sinister -- in the highest degree
sinister. That is where he comes within my purview. You have
heard me speak of Professor Moriarty?"

"The famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks as --"

"My blushes, Watson!" Holmes murmured in a deprecating voice.

"I was about to say, as he is unknown to the public."

"A touch! A distinct touch!" cried Holmes. "You are developing
a certain unexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against
which I must learn to guard myself. But in calling Moriarty a
criminal you are uttering libel in the eyes of the law -- and
there lie the glory and the wonder of it! The greatest schemer
of all time, the organizer of every deviltry, the controlling