It was drifting slowly in our direction and banked itself up like a wall on that side of us, low but thick and well defined.

The moon shone on it, and it looked like a great shimmering ice-field, with the heads of the distant tors as rocks borne upon its surface.

Holmes's face was turned towards it, and he muttered impatiently as he watched its sluggish drift.
"It's moving towards us, Watson." "Is that serious ?" "Very serious, indeed--the one thing upon earth which could have disarranged my plans.

He can't be very long, now.

It is already ten o'clock.