"Well, well!" said he coolly as he scrambled to the surface. "I guess you have been one too many for me, Mr. Holmes. Saw through my game, I suppose, and played me for a sucker from the first. Well, sir, I hand it to you; you have me beat and– –"
In an instant he had whisked out a revolver from his breast and had fired two shots. I felt a sudden hot sear as if a red-hot iron had been pressed to my thigh. Holmes made to bring his pistol down upon the man's head when Killer Evans sunk to floor. It was then that we could see a blood stain blossoming on his jacket.
I glanced questioningly at Holmes, but he looked as surprised as me.
"Are you alright, Doctor?"
When we looked over Inspector Lestrade greeted us with a nod as he pocketed his revolver. To my knowledge Holmes had never contacted the Yard about this evening. Before I could say anything my friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair. Lestrade busied himself with sending word to the Yard, giving us a few moments alone.
"It's nothing, Holmes. It's a mere scratch."
He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife.
"Thank god," he sighed, a look of relief washing over his face.
Lestrade came back to inform us that it would not be long before someone arrived to take Evans away. I opened my mouth to ask how he knew we were here but he raised his hand to keep me silent.
"I was on my way to Baker Street when I saw you both climb into a cab. You, Mr. Holmes, looked like you were about to solve some mystery, so I followed in case you would need the law. I heard the shots and here I am, gentlemen."
I tried to hide a chuckle and, failing miserably, earned myself a glare from Holmes. "No one can work with you for so long without learning something from you, Holmes," I said trying not to smile.