"Come, Watson, come! Great heavens, if we are too late!" He had started running swiftly over the moor, and I had followed at his heels.

But now from somewhere among the broken ground immediately in front of us there came one last despairing yell, and then a dull, heavy thud.

We halted and listened.

Not another sound broke the heavy silence of the windless night.
I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead like a man distracted.
He stamped his feet upon the ground.
"He has beaten us, Watson.

We are too late." "No, no, surely not!" "Fool that I was to hold my hand.