One night I followed Barrymore to an empty room and saw him hold a candle to the window, looking out over the moor. Far away a tiny point of yellow light answered him. Sir Henry and I made him confess. The escaped convict Selden was Mrs Barrymore's younger brother, and they had been feeding him in a hut on the moor. We went out to take him, but he ran into the darkness. And then, against the rising moon, I saw another figure standing on a granite tor, tall and thin, with his arms folded, like a black statue. It was not the convict. Two days later I found the stone hut where this man was hiding and sat down inside it with my revolver to wait for him. A step came near, and a well-known voice said, It is a lovely evening, my dear Watson. It was Sherlock Holmes.