but by a
savage blow dealt by a vigorous arm. the lad, then, _had_
a companion in his flight. and the flight was a swift one,
since it took five miles before an expert cyclist could
overtake them. yet we survey the ground round the scene
of the tragedy. what do we find? a few cattle tracks,
nothing more. i took a wide sweep round, and there is no
path within fifty yards. another cyclist could have had
nothing to do with the actual murder. nor were there any
human footmarks."
"holmes," i cried, "this is impossible."
"admirable!" he said. "a most illuminating remark.
it _is_ impossible as i state it, and therefore i must in some
respect have stated it wrong. yet you saw for yourself.
can you suggest any fallacy?"
"he could not have fractured his skull in a fall?"
"in a morass, watson?"
"i am at my wit's end."
"tut, tut; we have solved some worse problems.
at least we have plenty of material, if we can only use it.
come, then, and, having exhausted the palmer, let us see what
the dunlop with the patched cover has to offer us."
we picked up the track and followed it onwards for some
distance; but soon the moor rose into a long, heather-tufted
curve, and we left the watercourse behind us. no further
help from tracks could be hoped for. at the spot where
we saw the last of the dunlop tyre it might equally have led
to holdernesse hall, the stately towers of which rose some
miles to our left, or to a low, grey village which lay in front
of us, and marked the position of the chesterfield high road.
as we approached the forbidding and squalid inn, with the
sign of a game-cock above the door, holmes gave a sudden
groan and clutched me by the shoulder to save himself from
falling. he had had one of those violent strains of the
ankle which leave a man helpless. with difficulty he
limped up to the door, where a squat, dark, elderly man was
smoking a black clay pipe.
"how are you, mr. reuben hayes?" said holmes.
"who are you, and how do you get my name so pat?" the
countryman answered, with a suspicious flash of a pair of
cunning eyes.
"well, it's printed on the board above your head.
it's easy to see a man who is master of his own house.
i suppose you haven't such a thing as a carriage in your
stables?"
"no; i have not."
"i can hardly put my foot to the ground."
"don't put it to the ground."
"but i can't walk."
"well, then, hop."
mr. reuben hayes's manner was far from gracious, but holmes
took it with admirable good-humour.
"look here, my man," said he. "this is really rather an
awkward fix for me. i don't mind how i get on."
"neither do i," said the morose landlord.
"the matter is very important. i would offer you a
sovereign for the use of a bicycle."
the landlord pricked up his ears.
"where do you want to go?"
"to holdernesse hall."
"pals of the dook, i suppose?" said the landlord, surveying
our mud-stained garments with ironical eyes.
holmes laughed good-naturedly.
"he'll be glad to see us, anyhow."
"why?"
"because we bring him news of his lost son."
the landlord gave a very visible start.
"what, you're on his track?"
"he has been heard of in liverpool. they expect to get him
every hour."
again a swift change passed over the heavy, unshaven face.
his manner was suddenly genial.
"i've less reason to wish the dook well than most men,"
said he, "for i was his head coachman once, and cruel bad
he treated me. it was him that sacked me without a
character on the word of a lying corn-chandler. but i'm
glad to hear that the young lord was heard of in liverpool,
and i'll help you to take the news to the hall."
"thank you," said holmes. "we'll have some food first.
then you can bring round the bicycle."
"i haven't got a bicycle."
holmes held up a sovereign.
"i tell you, man, that i haven't got one. i'll let you
have two horses as far as the hall."
"well, well," said holmes, "we'll talk about it when we've
had something to eat."
when we were left alone in the stone-flagged kitchen it was
astonishing how rapidly that sprained ankle recovered.
it was nearly nightfall, and we had eaten nothing since
early morning, so that we spent some time over our meal.
holmes was lost in thought, and once or twice he walked over
to the window and stared earnestly out. it opened on to a
squalid courtyard. in the far corner was a smithy, where a
grimy lad was at work. on the other side were the stables.
holmes had sat down again after one of these excursions,
when he suddenly sprang out of his chair with a loud
exclamation.
"by heaven, watson, i believe that i've got it!" he cried.
"yes, yes, it must be so. watson, do you remember seeing
any cow-tracks to-day?"
"yes, several."
"where?"
"well, everywhere. they were at the morass, and again on
the path, and again ne
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