We had risen from our rocks and were turning to go home, having abandoned the hopeless chase.

The moon was low upon the right, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor stood up against the lower curve of its silver disc.

There, outlined as black as an ebony statue on that shining background, I saw the figure of a man upon the tor.

Do not think that it was a delusion, Holmes.

I assure you that I have never in my life seen anything more clearly.