I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness - such an absolute darkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5346 | 2019-03-28 09:07:38 | 59.09 | 96% |
| 1963 | 2019-01-09 08:51:23 | 51.80 | 96% |