By A. CONAN DOYLE.
_V.--The Adventure of the Priory School._
We have had some dramatic entrances and exits upon our small stage
at Baker Street, but I cannot recollect anything more sudden and
startling than the first appearance of Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A.,
Ph.D., etc. His card, which seemed too small to carry the weight of
his academic distinctions, preceded him by a few seconds, and then he
entered himself--so large, so pompous, and so dignified that he was
the very embodiment of self-possession and solidity. And yet his first
action when the door had closed behind him was to stagger against
the table, whence he slipped down upon the floor, and there was that
majestic figure prostrate and insensible upon our bearskin hearthrug.
We had sprung to our feet, and for a few moments we stared in silent
amazement at this ponderous piece of wreckage, which told of some
sudden and fatal storm far out on the ocean of life. Then Holmes
hurried with a cushion for his head and I with brandy for his lips. The
heavy white face was seamed with lines of trouble, the hanging pouches
under the closed eyes were leaden in colour, the loose mouth drooped
dolorously at the corners, the rolling chins were unshaven. Collar and
shirt bore the grime of a long journey, and the hair bristled unkempt
from the well-shaped head. It was a sorely-stricken man who lay before
us.
"What is it, Watson?" asked Holmes.
"Absolute exhaustion--possibly mere hunger and fatigue," said I, with
my finger on the thready pulse, where the stream of life trickled thin
and small.
"Return ticket from Mackleton, in the North of England," said Holmes,
drawing it from the watch-pocket. "It is not twelve o'clock yet. He has
certainly been an early starter."
The puckered eyelids had begun to quiver, and now a pair of vacant,
grey eyes looked up at us. An instant later the man had scrambled on to
his feet, his face crimson with shame.
"Forgive this weakness, Mr. Holmes; I have been a little overwrought.
Thank you, if I might have a glass of milk and a biscuit I have no
doubt that I should be better. I came personally, Mr. Holmes, in order
to ensure that you would return with me. I feared that no telegram
would convince you of the absolute urgency of the case."
"When you are quite restored----"
"I am quite well again. I cannot imagine how I came to be so weak. I
wish you, Mr. Holmes, to come to Mackleton with me by the next train."
My friend shook his head.
"My colleague, Dr. Watson, could tell you that we are very busy at
present. I am retained in this case of the Ferrers Documents, and the
Abergavenny murder is coming up for trial. Only a very important issue
could call me from London at present."
"Important!" Our visitor threw up his hands. "Have you heard nothing of
the abduction of the only son of the Duke of Holdernesse?"
"What! the late Cabinet Minister?"
"Exactly. We had tried to keep it out of the papers, but there was some
rumour in the _Globe_ last night. I thought it might have reached your
ears."
Holmes shot out his long, thin arm and picked out Volume "H" in his
encyclopædia of reference.
"'Holdernesse, 6th Duke, K.G., P.C.'--half the alphabet! 'Baron
Beverley, Earl of Carston'--dear me, what a list! 'Lord Lieutenant
of Hallamshire since 1900. Married Edith, daughter of Sir Charles
Appledore, 1888. Heir and only child, Lord Saltire. Owns about two
hundred and fifty thousand acres. Minerals in Lancashire and Wales.
Address: Carlton House Terrace; Holdernesse Hall, Hallamshire; Carston
Castle, Bangor, Wales. Lord of the Admiralty, 1872; Chief Secretary of
State for----' Well, well, this man is certainly one of the greatest
subjects of the Crown!"
[Illustration: "THE HEAVY WHITE FACE WAS SEAMED WITH LINES OF TROUBLE."]
"The greatest and perhaps the wealthiest. I am aware, Mr. Holmes, that
you take a very high line in professional matters, and that you are
prepared to work for the work's sake. I may tell you, however, that his
Grace has already intimated that a cheque for five thousand pounds will
be handed over to the person who can tell him where his son is, and
another thousand to him who can name the man, or men, who have taken
him."
"It is a princely offer," said Holmes. "Watson, I think that we shall
accompany Dr. Huxtable back to the North of England. And now, Dr.
Huxtable, when you have consumed that milk you will kindly tell me what
has happened, when it happened, how it happened, and, finally, what Dr.
Thorneycroft Huxtable, of the Priory School, near Mackleton, has to do
with the matter, and why he comes three days after an event--the state
of your chin gives the date--to ask for my humble services."
Our visitor had consumed his milk and biscuits. The light had come back
to his eyes and the colour to his cheeks as he set himself with great
vigour and lucidity to explain the situation.
"I must inform you, gentlemen, that the Priory is a preparatory school,
of which I am the founder and principal. 'Huxtable's Sidelights on
Horace' may possibly recall my name to your memories. The Priory
is, without exception, the best and most select preparatory school
in England. Lord Leverstoke, the Earl of Blackwater, Sir Cathcart
Soames--they all have entrusted their sons to me. But I felt that
my school had reached its zenith when, three weeks ago, the Duke of
Holdernesse sent Mr. James Wilder, his secretary, with the intimation
that young Lord Saltire, ten years old, his only son and heir, was
about to be committed to my charge. Little did I think that this would
be the prelude to the most crushing misfortune of my life.
"On May 1st the boy arrived, that being the beginning of the summer
term. He was a charming youth, and he soon fell into our ways. I may
tell you--I trust that I am not indiscreet, but half-confidences are
absurd in such a case--that he was not entirely happy at home. It is an
open secret that the Duke's married life had not been a peaceful one,
and the matter had ended in a separation by mutual consent, the Duchess
taking up her residence in the South of France. This had occurred
very shortly before, and the boy's sympathies are known to have been
strongly with his mother. He moped after her departure from Holdernesse
Hall, and it was for this reason that the Duke desired to send him to
my establishment. In a fortnight the boy was quite at home with us,
and was apparently absolutely happy.
"He was last seen on the night of May 13th--that is, the night of last
Monday. His room was on the second floor, and was approached through
another larger room in which two boys were sleeping. These boys saw
and heard nothing, so that it is certain that young Saltire did not
pass out that way. His window was open, and there is a stout ivy plant
leading to the ground. We could trace no footmarks below, but it is
sure that this is the only possible exit.
"His absence was discovered at seven o'clock on Tuesday morning. His
bed had been slept in. He had dressed himself fully before going off
in his usual school suit of black Eton jacket and dark grey trousers.
There were no signs that anyone had entered the room, and it is quite
certain that anything in the nature of cries, or a struggle, would have
been heard, since Caunter, the elder boy in the inner room, is a very
light sleeper.
"When Lord Saltire's disappearance was discovered I at once called a
roll of the whole establishment, boys, masters, and servants. It was
then that we ascertained that Lord Saltire had not been alone in his
flight. Heidegger, the German master, was missing. His room was on
the second floor, at the farther end of the building, facing the same
way as Lord Saltire's. His bed had also been slept in; but he had
apparently gone away partly dressed, since his shirt and socks were
lying on the floor. He had undoubtedly let himself down by the ivy, for
we could see the marks of his feet where he had landed on the lawn. His
bicycle was kept in a small shed beside this lawn, and it also was gone.
"He had been with me for two years, and came with the best references;
but he was a silent, morose man, not very popular either with masters
or boys. No trace could be found of the fugitives, and now on Thursday
morning we are as ignorant as we were on Tuesday. Inquiry was, of
course, made at once at Holdernesse Hall. It is only a few miles away,
and we imagined that in some sudden attack of home-sickness he had gone
back to his father; but nothing had been heard of him. The Duke is
greatly agitated--and as to me, you have seen yourselves the state of
nervous prostration to which the suspense and the responsibility have
reduced me. Mr. Holmes, if ever you put forward your full powers, I
implore you to do so now, for never in your life could you have a case
which is more worthy of them."
Sherlock Holmes had listened with the utmost intentness to the
statement of the unhappy schoolmaster. His drawn brows and the deep
furrow between them showed that he needed no exhortation to concentrate
all his attention upon a problem which, apart from the tremendous
interests involved, must appeal so directly to his love of the complex
and the unusual. He now drew out his note-book and jotted down one or
two memoranda.
"You have been very remiss in not coming to me sooner," said he,
severely. "You start me on my investigation with a very serious
handicap. It is inconceivable, for example, that this ivy and this lawn
would have yielded nothing to an expert observer."
"I am not to blame, Mr. Holmes. His Grace was extremely desirous to
avoid all public scandal. He was afraid of his family unhappiness being
dragged before the world. He has a deep horror of anything of the kind."
"But there has been some official investigation?"
"Yes, sir, and it has proved most disappointing. An apparent clue was
at once obtained, since a boy and a young man were reported to have
been seen leaving a neighbouring station by an early train. Only last
night we had news that the couple had been hunted down in Liverpool,
and they prove to have no connection whatever with the matter in hand.
Then it was that in my despair and disappointment, after a sleepless
night, I came straight to you by the early train."
"I suppose the local investigation was relaxed while this false clue
was being followed up?"
"It was entirely dropped."
"So that three days have been wasted. The affair has been most
deplorably handled."
"I feel it, and admit it."
"And yet the problem should be capable of ultimate solution. I shall be
very happy to look into it. Have you been able to trace any connection
between the missing boy and this German master?"
"None at all."
"Was he in the master's class?"
"No; he never exchanged a word with him so far as I know."
"That is certainly very singular. Had the boy a bicycle?"
"No."
"Was any other bicycle missing?"
"No."
"Is that certain?"
"Quite."
"Well, now, you do not mean to seriously suggest that this German rode
off upon a bicycle in the dead of the night bearing the boy in his
arms?"
"Certainly not."
"Then what is the theory in your mind?"
"The bicycle may have been a blind. It may have been hidden somewhere
and the pair gone off on foot."
"Quite so; but it seems rather an absurd blind, does it not? Were there
other bicycles in this shed?"
"Several."
"Would he not have hidden _a couple_ had he desired to give the idea
that they had gone off upon them?"
"I suppose he would."
[Illustration: "WHAT IS THE THEORY IN YOUR MIND?"]
"Of course he would. The blind theory won't do. But the incident is an
admirable starting-point for an investigation. After all, a bicycle is
not an easy thing to conceal or to destroy. One other question. Did
anyone call to see the boy on the day before he disappeared?"
"No."
"Did he get any letters?"
"Yes; one letter."
"From whom?"
"From his father."
"Do you open the boys' letters?"
"No."
"How do you know it was from the father?"
"The coat of arms was on the envelope, and it was addressed in the
Duke's peculiar stiff hand. Besides, the Duke remembers having written."
"When had he a letter before that?"
"Not for several days."
"Had he ever one from France?"
"No; never."
"You see the point of my questions, of course. Either the boy was
carried off by force or he went of his own free will. In the latter
case you would expect that some prompting from outside would be needed
to make so young a lad do such a thing. If he has had no visitors, that
prompting must have come in letters. Hence I try to find out who were
his correspondents."
"I fear I cannot help you much. His only correspondent, so far as I
know, was his own father."
"Who wrote to him on the very day of his disappearance. Were the
relations between father and son very friendly?"
"His Grace is never very friendly with anyone. He is completely
immersed in large public questions, and is rather inaccessible to all
ordinary emotions. But he was always kind to the boy in his own way."
"But the sympathies of the latter were with the mother?"
"Yes."
"Did he say so?"
"No."
"The Duke, then?"
"Good heavens, no!"
"Then how could you know?"
"I have had some confidential talks with Mr. James Wilder, his Grace's
secretary. It was he who gave me the information about Lord Saltire's
feelings."
"I see. By the way, that last letter of the Duke's--was it found in the
boy's room after he was gone?"
"No; he had taken it with him. I think, Mr. Holmes, it is time that we
were leaving for Euston."
"I will order a four-wheeler. In a quarter of an hour we shall be at
your service. If you are telegraphing home, Mr. Huxtable, it would be
well to allow the people in your neighbourhood to imagine that the
inquiry is still going on in Liverpool, or wherever else that red
herring led your pack. In the meantime I will do a little quiet work at
your own doors, and perhaps the scent is not so cold but that two old
hounds like Watson and myself may get a sniff of it."
* * * * *
That evening found us in the cold, bracing atmosphere of the Peak
country, in which Dr. Huxtable's famous school is situated. It was
already dark when we reached it. A card was lying on the hall table,
and the butler whispered something to his master, who turned to us with
agitation in every heavy feature.
"The Duke is here," said he. "The Duke and Mr. Wilder are in the study.
Come, gentlemen, and I will introduce you."
I was, of course, familiar with the pictures of the famous statesman,
but the man himself was very different from his representation. He was
a tall and stately person, scrupulously dressed, with a drawn, thin
face, and a nose which was grotesquely curved and long. His complexion
was of a dead pallor, which was more startling by contrast with a
long, dwindling beard of vivid red, which flowed down over his white
waistcoat, with his watch-chain gleaming through its fringe. Such
was the stately presence who looked stonily at us from the centre of
Dr. Huxtable's hearthrug. Beside him stood a very young man, whom I
understood to be Wilder, the private secretary. He was small, nervous,
alert, with intelligent, light-blue eyes and mobile features. It was he
who at once, in an incisive and positive tone, opened the conversation.
"I called this morning, Dr. Huxtable, too late to prevent you from
starting for London. I learned that your object was to invite Mr.
Sherlock Holmes to undertake the conduct of this case. His Grace is
surprised, Dr. Huxtable, that you should have taken such a step without
consulting him."
"When I learned that the police had failed----"
"His Grace is by no means convinced that the police have failed."
"But surely, Mr. Wilder----"
"You are well aware, Dr. Huxtable, that his Grace is particularly
anxious to avoid all public scandal. He prefers to take as few people
as possible into his confidence."
"The matter can be easily remedied," said the brow-beaten doctor; "Mr.
Sherlock Holmes can return to London by the morning train."
"Hardly that, doctor, hardly that," said Holmes, in his blandest voice.
"This northern air is invigorating and pleasant, so I propose to spend
a few days upon your moors, and to occupy my mind as best I may.
Whether I have the shelter of your roof or of the village inn is, of
course, for you to decide."
I could see that the unfortunate doctor was in the last stage of
indecision, from which he was rescued by the deep, sonorous voice of
the red-bearded Duke, which boomed out like a dinner-gong.
"I agree with Mr. Wilder, Dr. Huxtable, that you would have done
wisely to consult me. But since Mr. Holmes has already been taken into
your confidence, it would indeed be absurd that we should not avail
ourselves of his services. Far from going to the inn, Mr. Holmes, I
should be pleased if you would come and stay with me at Holdernesse
Hall."
"I thank your Grace. For the purposes of my investigation I think that
it would be wiser for me to remain at the scene of the mystery."
"Just as you like, Mr. Holmes. Any information which Mr. Wilder or I
can give you is, of course, at your disposal."
"It will probably be necessary for me to see you at the Hall," said
Holmes. "I would only ask you now, sir, whether you have formed any
explanation in your own mind as to the mysterious disappearance of your
son?"
"No, sir, I have not."
"Excuse me if I allude to that which is painful to you, but I have no
alternative. Do you think that the Duchess had anything to do with the
matter?"
The great Minister showed perceptible hesitation.
"I do not think so," he said, at last.
"The other most obvious explanation is that the child has been
kidnapped for the purpose of levying ransom. You have not had any
demand of the sort?"
"No, sir."
"One more question, your Grace. I understand that you wrote to your son
upon the day when this incident occurred."
"No; I wrote upon the day before."
[Illustration: "BESIDE HIM STOOD A VERY YOUNG MAN."]
"Exactly. But he received it on that day?"
"Yes."
"Was there anything in your letter which might have unbalanced him or
induced him to take such a step?"
"No, sir, certainly not."
"Did you post that letter yourself?"
The nobleman's reply was interrupted by his secretary, who broke in
with some heat.
"His Grace is not in the habit of posting letters himself," said he.
"This letter was laid with others upon the study table, and I myself
put them in the post-bag."
"You are sure this one was among them?"
"Yes; I observed it."
"How many letters did your Grace write that day?"
"Twenty or thirty. I have a large correspondence. But surely this is
somewhat irrelevant?"
"Not entirely," said Holmes.
"For my own part," the Duke continued, "I have advised the police to
turn their attention to the South of France. I have already said that I
do not believe that the Duchess would encourage so monstrous an action,
but the lad had the most wrong-headed opinions, and it is possible that
he may have fled to her, aided and abetted by this German. I think, Dr.
Huxtable, that we will now return to the Hall."
I could see that there were other questions which Holmes would
have wished to put; but the nobleman's abrupt manner showed that
the interview was at an end. It was evident that to his intensely
aristocratic nature this discussion of his intimate family affairs with
a stranger was most abhorrent, and that he feared lest every fresh
question would throw a fiercer light into the discreetly shadowed
corners of his ducal history.
When the nobleman and his secretary had left, my friend flung himself
at once with characteristic eagerness into the investigation.
The boy's chamber was carefully examined, and yielded nothing save the
absolute conviction that it was only through the window that he could
have escaped. The German master's room and effects gave no further
clue. In his case a trailer of ivy had given way under his weight, and
we saw by the light of a lantern the mark on the lawn where his heels
had come down. That one dint in the short green grass was the only
material witness left of this inexplicable nocturnal flight.
Sherlock Holmes left the house alone, and only returned after eleven.
He had obtained a large ordnance map of the neighbourhood, and this
he brought into my room, where he laid it out on the bed, and, having
balanced the lamp in the middle of it, he began to smoke over it, and
occasionally to point out objects of interest with the reeking amber of
his pipe.
"This case grows upon me, Watson," said he. "There are decidedly some
points of interest in connection with it. In this early stage I want
you to realize those geographical features which may have a good deal
to do with our investigation.
"Look at this map. This dark square is the Priory School. I'll put a
pin in it. Now, this line is the main road. You see that it runs east
and west past the school, and you see also that there is no side road
for a mile either way. If these two folk passed away by road it was
_this_ road."
"Exactly."
"By a singular and happy chance we are able to some extent to check
what passed along this road during the night in question. At this
point, where my pipe is now resting, a country constable was on duty
from twelve to six. It is, as you perceive, the first cross road on the
east side. This man declares that he was not absent from his post for
an instant, and he is positive that neither boy nor man could have gone
that way unseen. I have spoken with this policeman to-night, and he
appears to me to be a perfectly reliable person. That blocks this end.
We have now to deal with the other. There is an inn here, the Red Bull,
the landlady of which was ill. She had sent to Mackleton for a doctor,
but he did not arrive until morning, being absent at another case. The
people at the inn were alert all night, awaiting his coming, and one
or other of them seems to have continually had an eye upon the road.
They declare that no one passed. If their evidence is good, then we are
fortunate enough to be able to block the west, and also to be able to
say that the fugitives did _not_ use the road at all."
"But the bicycle?" I objected.
"Quite so. We will come to the bicycle presently. To continue our
reasoning: if these people did not go by the road, they must have
traversed the country to the north of the house or to the south of the
house. That is certain. Let us weigh the one against the other. On the
south of the house is, as you perceive, a large district of arable
land, cut up into small fields, with stone walls between them. There,
I admit that a bicycle is impossible. We can dismiss the idea. We turn
to the country on the north. Here there lies a grove of trees, marked
as the 'Ragged Shaw,' and on the farther side stretches a great rolling
moor, Lower Gill Moor, extending for ten miles and sloping gradually
upwards. Here, at one side of this wilderness, is Holdernesse Hall,
ten miles by road, but only six across the moor. It is a peculiarly
desolate plain. A few moor farmers have small holdings, where they rear
sheep and cattle. Except these, the plover and the curlew are the only
inhabitants until you come to the Chesterfield high road. There is a
church there, you see, a few cottages, and an inn. Beyond that the
hills become precipitous. Surely it is here to the north that our quest
must lie."
"But the bicycle?" I persisted.
"Well, well!" said Holmes, impatiently. "A good cyclist does not need a
high road. The moor is intersected with paths and the moon was at the
full. Halloa! what is this?"
There was an agitated knock at the door, and an instant afterwards Dr.
Huxtable was in the room. In his hand he held a blue cricket-cap, with
a white chevron on the peak.
"At last we have a clue!" he cried. "Thank Heaven! at last we are on
the dear boy's track! It is his cap."
"Where was it found?"
"In the van of the gipsies who camped on the moor. They left on
Tuesday. To-day the police traced them down and examined their caravan.
This was found."
"How do they account for it?"
"They shuffled and lied--said that they found it on the moor on Tuesday
morning. They know where he is, the rascals! Thank goodness, they are
all safe under lock and key. Either the fear of the law or the Duke's
purse will certainly get out of them all that they know."
"So far, so good," said Holmes, when the doctor had at last left the
room. "It at least bears out the theory that it is on the side of the
Lower Gill Moor that we must hope for results. The police have 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.
[Illustration: SKETCH MAP SHOWING THE LOCALITY.]
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.
[Illustration: "AN IMPRESSION LIKE A FINE BUNDLE OF TELEGRAPH WIRES RAN
DOWN THE CENTRE OF IT."]
"Here is Herr Heidegger, sure enough!" cried Holmes, exultantly. "My
reasoning seems to have been pretty sound, Watson."
"I congratulate you."
"But we have a long way still to go. Kindly walk clear of the path. Now
let us follow the trail. I fear that it will not lead very far."
We found, however, as we advanced that this portion of the moor is
intersected with soft patches, and, though we frequently lost sight of
the track, we always succeeded in picking it up once more.
"Do you observe," said Holmes, "that the rider is now undoubtedly
forcing the pace? There can be no doubt of it. Look at this impression,
where you get both tyres clear. The one is as deep as the other.
That can only mean that the rider is throwing his weight on to the
handle-bar, as a man does when he is sprinting. By Jove! he has had a
fall."
There was a broad, irregular smudge covering some yards of the track.
Then there were a few footmarks, and the tyre reappeared once more.
"A side-slip," I suggested.
Holmes held up a crumpled branch of flowering gorse. To my horror I
perceived that the yellow blossoms were all dabbled with crimson. On
the path, too, and among the heather were dark stains of clotted blood.
"Bad!" said Holmes. "Bad! Stand clear, Watson! Not an unnecessary
footstep! What do I read here? He fell wounded, he stood up, he
remounted, he proceeded. But there is no other track. Cattle on this
side path. He was surely not gored by a bull? Impossible! But I see no
traces of anyone else. We must push on, Watson. Surely with stains as
well as the track to guide us he cannot escape us now."
Our search was not a very long one. The tracks of the tyre began to
curve fantastically upon the wet and shining path. Suddenly, as I
looked ahead, the gleam of metal caught my eye from amid the thick
gorse bushes. Out of them we dragged a bicycle, Palmer-tyred, one
pedal bent, and the whole front of it horribly smeared and slobbered
with blood. On the other side of the bushes a shoe was projecting.
We ran round, and there lay the unfortunate rider. He was a tall man,
full bearded, with spectacles, one glass of which had been knocked
out. The cause of his death was a frightful blow upon the head, which
had crushed in part of his skull. That he could have gone on after
receiving such an injury said much for the vitality and courage of
the man. He wore shoes, but no socks, and his open coat disclosed a
night-shirt beneath it. It was undoubtedly the German master.
[Illustration: "THERE LAY THE UNFORTUNATE RIDER."]
Holmes turned the body over reverently, and examined it with great
attention. He then sat in deep thought for a time, and I could see by
his ruffled brow that this grim discovery had not, in his opinion,
advanced us much in our inquiry.
"It is a little difficult to know what to do, Watson," said he, at
last. "My own inclinations are to push this inquiry on, for we have
already lost so much time that we cannot afford to waste another hour.
On the other hand, we are bound to inform the police of the discovery,
and to see that this poor fellow's body is looked after."
"I could take a note back."
"But I need your company and assistance. Wait a bit! There is a fellow
cutting peat up yonder. Bring him over here, and he will guide the
police."
I brought the peasant across, and Holmes dispatched the frightened man
with a note to Dr. Huxtable.
"Now, Watson," said he, "we have picked up two clues this morning. One
is the bicycle with the Palmer tyre, and we see what that has led to.
The other is the bicycle with the patched Dunlop. Before we start to
investigate that, let us try to realize what we _do_ know so as to make
the most of it, and to separate the essential from the accidental.
"First of all I wish to impress upon you that the boy certainly left of
his own free will. He got down from his window and he went off, either
alone or with someone. That is sure."