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The Adventure of the Dying Detective by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
page 3 of 26 (11%)
his voice was croaking and spasmodic. He lay listlessly as I
entered the room, but the sight of me brought a gleam of
recognition to his eyes.

"Well, Watson, we seem to have fallen upon evil days," said he in
a feeble voice, but with something of his old carelessness of
manner.

"My dear fellow!" I cried, approaching him.

"Stand back! Stand right back!" said he with the sharp
imperiousness which I had associated only with moments of crisis.
"If you approach me, Watson, I shall order you out of the house."

"But why?"

"Because it is my desire. Is that not enough?"

Yes, Mrs. Hudson was right. He was more masterful than ever. It
was pitiful, however, to see his exhaustion.

"I only wished to help," I explained.

"Exactly! You will help best by doing what you are told."

"Certainly, Holmes."

He relaxed the austerity of his manner.

"You are not angry?" he asked, gasping for breath.
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