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.
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 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.
Holmes turned the body over reverently, and examined it with great
