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 attention.He then sat in deep thought for a time, and Icould 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."I assented.
"Well, now, let us turn to this unfortunate German master.
The boy was fully dressed when he fled.Therefore, he foresaw what he would do.But the German went without his socks.
He certainly acted on very short notice.""Undoubtedly."
"Why did he go? Because, from his bedroom window, he saw the flight of the boy.Because he wished to overtake him and bring him back.He seized his bicycle, pursued the lad, and in pursuing him met his death.""So it would seem."
"Now I come to the critical part of my argument.The natural action of a man in pursuing a little boy would be to run after him.
He would know that he could overtake him.But the German does not do so.He turns to his bicycle.I am told that he was an excellent cyclist.He would not do this if he did not see that the boy had some swift means of escape.""The other bicycle."
"Let us continue our reconstruction.He meets his death five miles from the school -- not by a bullet, mark you, which even a lad might conceivably discharge, 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."
