Hudson, I am much obliged for your assistance.And now, Watson, let me see you in your old seat once more, for there are several points which I should like to discuss with you."He had thrown off the seedy frock-coat, and now he was the Holmes of old in the mouse-coloured dressing-gown which he took from his effigy.
"The old shikari's nerves have not lost their steadiness nor his eyes their keenness," said he, with a laugh, as he inspected the shattered forehead of his bust.
"Plumb in the middle of the back of the head and smack through the brain.He was the best shot in India, and I expect that there are few better in London.Have you heard the name?""No, I have not."
"Well, well, such is fame! But, then, if I remember aright, you had not heard the name of Professor James Moriarty, who had one of the great brains of the century.Just give me down my index of biographies from the shelf."He turned over the pages lazily, leaning back in his chair and blowing great clouds from his cigar.
"My collection of M's is a fine one," said he.
"Moriarty himself is enough to make any letter illustrious, and here is Morgan the poisoner, and Merridew of abominable memory, and Mathews, who knocked out my left canine in the waiting-room at Charing Cross, and, finally, here is our friend of to-night."He handed over the book, and I read:
"MORAN, SEBASTIAN, COLONEL.Unemployed.Formerly 1st Bengalore Pioneers.Born London, 1840.Son of Sir Augustus Moran, C.B., once British Minister to Persia.Educated Eton and Oxford.
Served in Jowaki Campaign, Afghan Campaign, Charasiab (despatches), Sherpur, and Cabul.Author of `Heavy Game of the Western Himalayas,'
1881; `Three Months in the Jungle,' 1884.Address: Conduit Street.
Clubs: The Anglo-Indian, the Tankerville, the Bagatelle Card Club."On the margin was written, in Holmes's precise hand:
"The second most dangerous man in London.""This is astonishing," said I, as I handed back the volume.
"The man's career is that of an honourable soldier.""It is true," Holmes answered."Up to a certain point he did well.He was always a man of iron nerve, and the story is still told in India how he crawled down a drain after a wounded man-eating tiger.There are some trees, Watson, which grow to a certain height and then suddenly develop some unsightly eccentricity.You will see it often in humans.I have a theory that the individual represents in his development the whole procession of his ancestors, and that such a sudden turn to good or evil stands for some strong influence which came into the line of his pedigree.The person becomes, as it were, the epitome of the history of his own family.""It is surely rather fanciful."
"Well, I don't insist upon it.Whatever the cause, Colonel Moran began to go wrong.Without any open scandal he still made India too hot to hold him.He retired, came to London, and again acquired an evil name.It was at this time that he was sought out by Professor Moriarty, to whom for a time he was chief of the staff.Moriarty supplied him liberally with money and used him only in one or two very high-class jobs which no ordinary criminal could have undertaken.You may have some recollection of the death of Mrs.Stewart, of Lauder, in 1887.
