Thursday, 18th. Oct., continued

I heard him, first, from the sharp clink of his boot striking upon a
stone.  Then another & yet another, coming nearer & nearer. I shrank
back into the darkest corner of the hut and cocked the pistol in my
pocket.  There was a long pause which showed that he had stopped.
Then once more the footsteps approached and a shadow fell across the
opening of the hut.
"It's a lovely evening, my dear Watson," said a well-known voice.
"I really think that you will be more comfortable outside than in."
I was at first astonished, and then relieved. That cold, incisive,
ironical voice could belong only to Holmes. I went out and found him,
grey eyes dancing with amusement, thin & worn, but clear & alert,
