I felt a creeping of the flesh, and a presentiment of coming horror, even before Sherlock Holmes answered.

“The word Rache , written in letters of blood,” he said.

“That was it,” said Lestrade, in an awestruck voice; and we were all silent for a while.

There was something so methodical and so incomprehensible about the deeds of this unknown assassin, that it imparted a fresh ghastliness to his crimes. My nerves, which were steady enough on the field of battle tingled as I thought of it.