e really done nothing locally, save
the arrest of these gipsies. look here, watson! there is
a watercourse across the moor. you see it marked here in
the map. in some parts it widens into a morass. this is
particularly so in the region between holdernesse hall and
the school. it is vain to look elsewhere for tracks in
this dry weather; but at _that_ point there is certainly a
chance of some record being left. i will call you early
to-morrow morning, and you and i will try if we can throw
some little light upon the mystery."
the day was just breaking when i woke to find the long,
thin form of holmes by my bedside. he was fully dressed,
and had apparently already been out.
"i have done the lawn and the bicycle shed," said he.
"i have also had a ramble through the ragged shaw.
now, watson, there is cocoa ready in the next room.
i must beg you to hurry, for we have a great day before us."
his eyes shone, and his cheek was flushed with the
exhilaration of the master workman who sees his work lie
ready before him. a very different holmes, this active,
alert man, from the introspective and pallid dreamer of
baker street. i felt, as i looked upon that supple figure,
alive with nervous energy, that it was indeed a strenuous
day that awaited us.
and yet it opened in the blackest disappointment.
with high hopes we struck across the peaty, russet moor,
intersected with a thousand sheep paths, until we came to
the broad, light-green belt which marked the morass between
us and holdernesse. certainly, if the lad had gone
homewards, he must have passed this, and he could not pass
it without leaving his traces. but no sign of him or the
german could be seen. with a darkening face my friend
strode along the margin, eagerly observant of every muddy
stain upon the mossy surface. sheep-marks there were in
profusion, and at one place, some miles down, cows had left
their tracks. nothing more.
"check number one," said holmes, looking gloomily over the
rolling expanse of the moor. "there is another morass down
yonder and a narrow neck between. halloa! halloa! halloa!
what have we here?"
we had come on a small black ribbon of pathway.
in the middle of it, clearly marked on the sodden soil,
was the track of a bicycle.
"hurrah!" i cried. "we have it."
but holmes was shaking his head, and his face was puzzled
and expectant rather than joyous.
"a bicycle certainly, but not _the_ bicycle," said he.
"i am familiar with forty-two different impressions left
by tyres. this, as you perceive, is a dunlop, with a patch
upon the outer cover. heidegger's tyres were palmer's,
leaving longitudinal stripes. aveling, the mathematical
master, was sure upon the point. therefore, it is not
heidegger's track."
"the boy's, then?"
"possibly, if we could prove a bicycle to have been in his
possession. but this we have utterly failed to do.
this track, as you perceive, was made by a rider who was
going from the direction of the school."
"or towards it?"
"no, no, my dear watson. the more deeply sunk impression
is, of course, the hind wheel, upon which the weight rests.
you perceive several places where it has passed across and
obliterated the more shallow mark of the front one. it was
undoubtedly heading away from the school. it may or may
not be connected with our inquiry, but we will follow it
backwards before we go any farther."
we did so, and at the end of a few hundred yards lost the
tracks as we emerged from the boggy portion of the moor.
following the path backwards, we picked out another spot,
where a spring trickled across it. here, once again, was
the mark of the bicycle, though nearly obliterated by the
hoofs of cows. after that there was no sign, but the path
ran right on into ragged shaw, the wood which backed on to
the school. from this wood the cycle must have emerged.
holmes sat down on a boulder and rested his chin in his
hands. i had smoked two cigarettes before he moved.
"well, well," said he, at last. "it is, of course,
possible that a cunning man might change the tyre of his
bicycle in order to leave unfamiliar tracks. a criminal
who was capable of such a thought is a man whom i should be
proud to do business with. we will leave this question
undecided and hark back to our morass again, for we have
left a good deal unexplored."
we continued our systematic survey of the edge of the
sodden portion of the moor, and soon our perseverance was
gloriously rewarded. right across the lower part of the
bog lay a miry path. holmes gave a cry of delight as he
approached it. an impression like a fine bundle of telegraph
wires ran down the centre of it. it was the palmer tyre.
"here is herr heidegger, sure enough!" cried holmes, exultantly.
"my reasoning seems to have been pretty sound, watson."
"i congratul
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