It was one o'clock in the morning. Barrois, who wished to go to bed himself, observed that after such sad events every one stood in need of rest. Noirtier would not say that the only rest he needed was to see his child, but wished her good-night, for grief and fatigue had made her appear quite ill. The next morning she found her grandmother in bed; the fever had not abated, on the contrary her eyes glistened and she appeared to be suffering from violent nervous irritability. "Oh, dear grandmamma, are you worse?" exclaimed Valentine, perceiving perceiving all these signs of agitation.

"No, my child, no," said Madame de Saint-Meran; "but I was impatiently waiting for your arrival, that I might send for your father."

"My father?" inquired Valentine, uneasily.

"Yes, I wish to speak to him." Valentine durst not oppose her grandmother's wish, the cause of which she did not know, and an instant afterwards Villefort entered. "Sir," said Madame de Saint-Meran, without using any circumlocution, and as if fearing she had no time to lose, "you wrote to me concerning the marriage of this child?"

"Yes, madame," replied Villefort, "it is not only projected projected but arranged."

"Your intended son-in-law is named M. Franz d'Epinay?"

"Yes, madame."

"Is he not the son of General d'Epinay who was on our side, and who was assassinated some days before the usurper returned from the Island of Elba?"

"The same."

"Does he not dislike the idea of marrying the granddaughter of a Jacobin?"

"Our civil dissensions are now happily extinguished, mother," said Villefort; "M. d'Epinay was quite a child when his father died, he knows very little of M. Noirtier, and will meet him, if not with pleasure, at least with indifference."

"Is it a suitable match?"

"In every respect."

"And the the young man?"

"Is regarded with universal esteem."

"You approve of him?"

"He is one of the most well-bred young men I know." During the whole of this conversation Valentine had remained silent. "Well, sir," said Madame de Saint-Meran, after a few minutes' reflection, "I must hasten the marriage, for I have but a short time to live."

"You, madame?" "You, dear mamma?" exclaimed M. de Villefort and Valentine at the same time.

"I know what I am saying," continued the marchioness; "I must hurry you, so that, as she has no mother, she may at least have a grandmother to to bless her marriage. I am all that is left to her belonging to my poor Renee, whom you have so soon forgotten, sir."

"Ah, madame," said Villefort, "you forget that I was obliged to give a mother to my child."

"A stepmother is never a mother, sir. But this is not to the purpose, -- our business concerns Valentine, let us leave the dead in peace."

All this was said with such exceeding rapidity, that there was something in the conversation that seemed like the beginning of delirium.

"It shall be as you wish, madame," said Villefort; "more especially especially since your wishes coincide with mine, and as soon as M. d'Epinay arrives in Paris" --

"My dear grandmother," interrupted Valentine, "consider decorum -- the recent death. You would not have me marry under such sad auspices?"

MY DEAR WATSON [it said]:

I write these few lines through the courtesy of Mr.

Moriarty, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. He has been

giving me a sketch of the methods by which he avoided the

English police and kept himself informed of our movements. They certainly confirm the very high opinion which

I had had formed of his abilities. I am pleased to think that I

shall be able to free society from any further effects of his

presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give

pain to my friends, and especially, my dear Watson, to you.

I have already explained to you, however, that my career

had in any case reached its crisis, and that no possible

conclusion to it could be more congenial to me than this.

Indeed, if I may make a full confession to you, I was quite

convinced that the letter from Meiringen was a hoax, and I

allowed you to depart on that errand under the persuasion

that some development of this sort would follow. Tell Inspector Patterson that the papers which he needs to convict

the gang are in pigeonhole M., done up in a blue envelope

and inscribed “Moriarty.” I made every disposition of my

property before leaving England and handed it to my brother

Mycroft. Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and

believe me to be, my dear fellow

Very sincerely yours,

SHERLOCK HOLMES.

A few words may suffice to tell the little that remains. An examination by experts leaves little doubt that a personal contest between the two men ended, as it could hardly fail to end in such a situation, in their reeling over, locked in each other’s arms. Any attempt at recovering the bodies was absolutely hopeless, and there, deep down in that dreadful cauldron of swirling water and seething foam, will lie for all time the most dangerous criminal and the foremost champion of the law of their generation. The Swiss youth was never found again, and there can be no doubt that he was one of the numerous agents whom Moriarty kept in his employ. As to the gang, it will be within the memory of the public how completely the evidence which Holmes had accumulated exposed their organization, and how heavily the hand of the dead man weighed upon them. Of their terrible chief few details came out during the proceedings, and if I have now been compelled to make a clear statement of his career, it is due to those injudicious champions who have endeavoured to clear his memory by attacks upon him whom I shall ever regard as the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known.