                                      1904
                                SHERLOCK HOLMES
                       THE ADVENTURE OF THE PRIORY SCHOOL
                           by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
  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 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
gray 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 insure 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 rumor 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 encyclopaedia 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!"
  "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 check 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 intrusted their sons to me. But I felt that my school
had reached its zenith when, weeks ago, the Duke of Holdernesse sent
Mr. James Wilder, his secretary, with 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 gray
trousers. There were no signs that anyone had entered the room, and it
is quite certain that anything in the nature of cries or ones 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
homesickness, 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 notebook 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."
  "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 of the latter were with the mother?"
  "Yes."
  "Did he say so?"
  "No."
  "The Duke, then?"
  "Good heaven, no!"
  "Then how could you know?"
  "I have had some confidential talks with Mr. James Wilder, his
Graces secretary. It was he who gave me the information about Lord
Saltire's feelings."
  "I see. By the way, that last letter of the Dukes- 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 browbeaten 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."
  "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 wrongheaded 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." (See illustration.)
  "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 county 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 amble
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 upward. 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 rumble 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 homeward, 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 tyres 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 tyres.
  "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 tires 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 tyres 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 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 nightshirt 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 I could see
by his ruffied 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 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 onward 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
boped 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, gray 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 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. "Well 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, "well 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."
  "Were?"
  "Well, everywhere. They were at the morass, and again on the path,
and again near where poor Heidegger met his death."
  "Exactly. Well, now, Watson, how many cows did you see on the moor?"
  "I don't remember seeing any."
  "Strange, Watson, that we should see tracks all along our line,
but never a cow on the whole moor. Very strange, Watson, eh?"
  "Yes, it is strange."
  "Now, Watson, make an effort, throw your mind back. Can you see
those tracks upon the path?"
  "Yes, I can."
  "Can you recall that the tracks were sometimes like that, Watson"-
he arranged a number of bread-crumbs in this fashion- : : : :- "and
sometimes like this"- :.:.:.:.- "and occasionally like this"-
.'.'.'. "Can you remember that?"
  "No, I cannot."
  "But I can. I could swear to it. However, we will go back at our
leisure and verify it. What a blind beetle I have been, not to draw my
conclusion."
  "And what is your conclusion?"
  "Only that it is a remarkable cow which walks, canters, and gallops.
By George! Watson, it was no brain of a country publican that
thought out such a blind as that. The coast seems to be clear, save
for that lad in the smithy. Let us slip out and see what we can see."
  There were two rough-haired, unkempt horses in the tumble-down
stable. Holmes raised the hind leg of one of them and laughed aloud.
  "Old shoes, but newly shod-old shoes, but new nails. This case
deserves to be a classic. Let us go across to the smithy."
  The lad continued his work without regarding us. I saw Holmes's
eye darting to right and left among the litter of iron and wood
which was scattered about the floor. Suddenly, however, we heard a
step behind us, and there was the landlord, his heavy eyebrows drawn
over his savage eyes, his swarthy features convulsed with passion.
He held a short, metal-headed stick in his hand, and he advanced in so
menacing a fashion that I was right glad to feel the revolver in my
pocket.
  "You infernal spies!" the man cried. "What are you doing there?"
  "Why, Mr. Reuben Hayes," said Holmes, coolly, "one might think
that you were afraid of our finding something out."
  The man mastered himself with a violent effort, and his grim mouth
loosened into a false laugh, which was more menacing than his frown.
  "You're welcome to all you can find out in my smithy," said he. "But
look here, mister, I don't care for folk poking about my place without
my leave, so the sooner you pay your score and get out of this the
better I shall be pleased."
  "All right, Mr. Hayes, no harm meant," said Holmes. "We have been
having a look at your horses, but I think I'll walk, after all. It's
not far, I believe."
  "Not more than two miles to the Hall gates. That's the road to the
left." He watched us with sullen eyes until we had left his premises.
  We did not go very far along the road, for Holmes stopped the
instant that the curve hid us from the landlord's view.
  "We were warm, as the children say, at that inn," said he. "I seem
to grow colder every step that I take away from it. No, no, I can't
possibly leave it."
  "I am convinced," said I, "that this Reuben Hayes knows all about
it. A more self-evident villain I never saw."
  "Oh! he impressed you in that way, did he? There are the horses,
there is the smithy. Yes, it is an interesting place, this Fighting
Cock. I think we shall have another look at it in an unobtrusive way."
  A long, sloping hillside, dotted with gray limestone boulders,
stretched behind us. We had turned off the road, and were making our
way up the hill, when, looking in the direction of Holdernesse Hall, I
saw a cyclist coming swiftly along.
  "Get down, Watson!" cried Holmes, with a heavy hand upon my
shoulder. We had hardly sunk from view when the man flew past us on
the road. Amid a rolling cloud of dust, I caught a glimpse of a
pale, agitated face- a face with horror in every lineament, the
mouth open, the eyes staring wildly in front. It was like some strange
caricature of the dapper James Wilder whom we had seen the night
before.
  "The Duke's secretary!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, let us see what
he does."
  We scrambled from rock to rock, until in a few moments we had made
our way to a point from which we could see the front door of the
inn. Wilder's bicycle was leaning against the wall beside it. No one
was moving about the house, nor could we catch a glimpse of any
faces at the windows. Slowly the twilight crept down as the sun sank
behind the high towers of Holdernesse Hall. Then, in the gloom, we saw
the two side-lamps of a trap light up in the stable-yard of the inn,
and shortly afterwards heard the rattle of hoofs, as it wheeled out
into the road and tore off at a furious pace in the direction of
Chesterfield.
  "What do you make of that, Watson?" Holmes whispered.
  "It looks like a flight."
  "A single man in a dog-cart, so far as I could see. Well, it
certainly was not Mr. James Wilder, for there he is at the door."
  A red square of light had sprung out of the darkness. In the
middle of it was the black figure of the secretary, his head advanced,
peering out into the night. It was evident that he was expecting
someone. Then at last there were steps in the road, a second figure
was visible for an instant against the light, the door shut, and all
was black once more. Five minutes later a lamp was lit in a room
upon the first floor.
  "It seems to be a curious class of custom that is done by the
Fighting Cock," said Holmes.
  "The bar is on the other side."
  "Quite so. These are what one may call the private guests. Now, what
in the world is Mr. James Wilder doing in that den at this hour of
night, and who is the companion who comes to meet him there? Come,
Watson, we must really take a risk and try to investigate this a
little more closely."
  Together we stole down to the road and crept across to the door of
the inn. The bicycle still leaned against the wall. Holmes struck a
match and held it to the back wheel, and I heard him chuckle as the
light fell upon a patched Dunlop tyre. Up above us was the lighted
window.
  "I must have a peep through that, Watson. If you bend your back
and support yourself upon the wall, I think that I can manage."
  An instant later, his feet were on my shoulders, but he was hardly
up before he was down again.
  "Come, my friend," said he, "our day's work has been quite long
enough. I think that we have gathered all that we can. It's a long
walk to the school, and the sooner we get started the better."
  He hardly opened his lips during that weary trudge across the
moor, nor would he enter the school when he reached it, but went on to
Mackleton Station, whence he could send some telegrams. Late at
night I heard him consoling Dr. Huxtable, prostrated by the tragedy of
his master's death, and later still he entered my room as alert and
vigorous as he had been when he started in the morning. "All goes
well, my friend," said he. "I promise that before to-morrow evening we
shall have reached the solution of the mystery."

  At eleven o'clock next morning my friend and I were walking up the
famous yew avenue of Holdernesse Hall. We were ushered through the
magnificent Elizabethan doorway and into his Grace's study. There we
found Mr. James Wilder, demure and courtly, but with some trace of
that wild terror of the night before still lurking in his furtive eyes
and in his twitching features.
  "You have come to see his Grace? I am sorry, but the fact is that
the Duke is far from well. He has been very much upset by the tragic
news. We received a telegram from Dr. Huxtable yesterday afternoon,
which told us of your discovery."
  "I must see the Duke, Mr. Wilder."
  "But he is in his room."
  "Then I must go to his room."
  "I believe he is in his bed."
  "I will see him there."
  Holmes's cold and inexorable manner showed the secretary that it was
useless to argue with him.
  "Very good, Mr. Holmes, I will tell him that you are here."
  After an hour's delay, the great nobleman appeared. His face was
more cadaverous than ever, his shoulders had rounded, and he seemed to
me to be an altogether older man than he had been the morning
before. He greeted us with a stately courtesy and seated himself at
his desk, his red beard streaming down on the table.
  "Well, Mr. Holmes?" said he.
  But my friend's eyes were fixed upon the secretary, who stood by his
master's chair.
  "I think, your Grace, that I could speak more freely in Mr. Wilder's
absence."
  The man turned a shade paler and cast a malignant glance at Holmes.
  "If your Grace wishes-"
  "Yes, yes, you had better go. Now, Mr. Holmes, what have you to
say?"
  My friend waited until the door had closed behind the retreating
secretary.
  "The fact is, your Grace," said he, "that my colleague, Dr.
Watson, and myself had an assurance from Dr. Huxtable that a reward
had been offered in this case. I should like to have this confirmed
from your own lips."
  "Certainly, Mr. Holmes."
  "It amounted, if I am correctly informed, to five thousand pounds to
anyone who will tell you where your son is?"
  "Exactly."
  "And another thousand to the man who will name the person or persons
who keep him in custody?"
  "Exactly."
  "Under the latter heading is included, no doubt, not only those
who may have taken him away, but also those who conspire to keep him
in his present position?"
  "Yes, yes," cried the Duke, impatiently. "If you do your work
well, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, you will have no reason to complain of
niggardly treatment."
  My friend rubbed his thin hands together with an appearance of
avidity which was a surprise to me, who knew his frugal tastes.
  "I fancy that I see your Grace's check-book upon the table," said
he. "I should be glad if you would make me out a check for six
thousand pounds. It would be as well, perhaps, for you to cross it.
The Capital and Counties Bank, Oxford Street branch are my agents."
  His Grace sat very stern and upright in his chair and looked stonily
at my friend.
  "Is this a joke, Mr. Holmes? It is hardly a subject for pleasantry."
  "Not at all, your Grace. I was never more earnest in my life."
  "What do you mean, then?"
  "I mean that I have earned the reward. I know where your son is, and
I know some, at least, of those who are holding him."
  The Duke's beard had turned more aggressively red than ever
against his ghastly white face.
  "Where is he?" he gasped.
  "He is, or was last night, at the Fighting Cock Inn, about two miles
from your park gate."
  The Duke fell back in his chair.
  "And whom do you accuse?"
  Sherlock Holmes's answer was an astounding one. He stepped swiftly
forward and touched the Duke upon the shoulder.
  "I accuse you," said he. "And now, your Grace, I'll trouble you
for that check."
  Never shall I forget the Duke's appearance as he sprang up and
clawed with his hands, like one who is sinking into an abyss. Then,
with an extraordinary effort of aristocratic self-command, he sat down
and sank his face in his hands. It some minutes before he spoke.
  "How much do you know?" he asked at last, without raising his head.
  "I saw you together last night."
  "Does anyone else beside your friend know?"
  "I have spoken to no one."
  The Duke took a pen in his quivering fingers and opened his
check-book.
  "I shall be as good as my word, Mr. Holmes. I am about to write your
check, however unwelcome the information which you have gained may
be to me. When the offer was first made, I little thought the turn
which events might take. But you and your friend are men of
discretion, Mr. Holmes?"
  "I hardly understand your Grace."
  "I must put it plainly, Mr. Holmes. If only you two know of this
incident, there is no reason why it should go any farther. I think
twelve thousand pounds is the sum that I owe you, is it not?"
  But Holmes smiled and shook his head.
  "I fear, your Grace, that matters can hardly be arranged so
easily. There is the death of this schoolmaster to be accounted for."
  "But James knew nothing of that. You cannot hold him responsible for
that. It was the work of this brutal ruffian whom he had the
misfortune to employ."
  "I must take the view, your Grace, that when a man embarks upon a
crime, he is morally guilty of any other crime which may spring from
it."
  "Morally, Mr. Holmes. No doubt you are right. But surely not in
the eyes of the law. A man cannot be condemned for a murder at which
he was not present, and which he loathes and abhors as much as you do.
The instant that he heard of it he made a complete confession to me,
so filled was he with horror and remorse. He lost not an hour in
breaking entirely with the murderer. Oh, Mr. Holmes, you must save
him- you must save him! I tell you that you must save him!" The Duke
had dropped the last attempt at self-command, and was pacing the
room with a convulsed face and with his clenched hands raving in the
air. At last he mastered himself and sat down once more at his desk.
"I appreciate your conduct in coming here before you spoke to anyone
else," said he. "At least, we may take counsel how far we can minimize
this hideous scandal."
  "Exactly," said Holmes. "I think, your Grace, that this can only
be done by absolute frankness between us. I am disposed to help your
Grace to the best of my ability, but, in order to do so, I must
understand to the last detail how the matter stands. I realize that
your words applied to Mr. James Wilder, and that he is not the
murderer."
  "No, the murderer has escaped."
  Sherlock Holmes smiled demurely.
  "Your Grace can hardly have heard of any small reputation which I
possess, or you would not imagine that it is so easy to escape me. Mr.
Reuben Hayes was arrested at Chesterfield, on my information, at
eleven o'clock last night. I had a telegram from the head of the local
police before I left the school this morning."
  The Duke leaned back in his chair and stared with amazement at my
friend.
  "You seem to have powers that are hardly human," said he. "So Reuben
Hayes is taken? I am right glad to hear it, if it will not react
upon the fate of James."
  "Your secretary?"
  "No, sir, my son."
  It was Holmes's turn to look astonished.
  "I confess that this is entirely new to me, your Grace. I must beg
you to be more explicit."
  "I will conceal nothing from you. I agree with you that complete
frankness, however painful it may be to me, is the best policy in this
desperate situation to which James's folly and jealousy have reduced
us. When I was a very young man, Mr. Holmes, I loved with such a
love as comes only once in a lifetime. I offered the lady marriage,
but she refused it on the grounds that such a match might mar my
career. Had she lived, I would certainly never have married anyone
else. She died, and left this one child, whom for her sake I have
cherished and cared for. I could not acknowledge the paternity to
the world, but I gave him the best of educations, and since he came to
manhood I have kept him near my person. He surprised my secret, and
has presumed ever since upon the claim which he has upon me, and
upon his power of provoking a scandal which would be abhorrent to
me. His presence had something to do with the unhappy issue of my
marriage. Above all, he hated my young legitimate heir from the
first with a persistent hatred. You may well ask me why, under these
circumstances, I still kept James under my roof. I answer that it
was because I could see his mother's face in his, and that for her
dear sake there was no end to my long-suffering. All her pretty ways
too- there was not one of them which he could not suggest and bring
back to my memory. I could not send him away. But I feared so much
lest he should do Arthur- that is, Lord Saltire- a mischief, that I
dispatched him for safety to Dr. Huxtable's school.
  "James came into contact with this fellow Hayes, because the man was
a tenant of mine, and James acted as agent. The fellow was a rascal
from the beginning, but, in some extraordinary way, James became
intimate with him. He had always a taste for low company. When James
determined to kidnap Lord Saltire, it was of this man's service that
he availed himself. You remember that I wrote to Arthur upon that last
day. Well, James opened the letter and inserted a note asking Arthur
to meet him in a little wood called the Ragged Shaw, which is near
to the school. He used the Duchess's name, and in that way got the boy
to come. That evening James bicycled over- I am telling you what he
has himself confessed to me- and he told Arthur, whom he met in the
wood, that his mother longed to see him, that she was awaiting him
on the moor, and that if he would come back into the wood at
midnight he would find a man with a horse, who would take him to
her. Poor Arthur fell into the trap. He came to the appointment, and
found this fellow Hayes with a led pony. Arthur mounted, and they
set off together. It appears- though this James only heard
yesterday- that they were pursued, that Hayes struck the pursuer
with his stick, and that the man died of his injuries. Hayes brought
Arthur to his public-house, the Fighting Cock, where he was confined
in an upper room, under the care of Mrs. Hayes, who is a kindly woman,
but entirely under the control of her brutal husband.
  "Well, Mr. Holmes, that was the state of affairs when I first saw
you two days ago. I had no more idea of the truth than you. You will
ask me what was James's motive in doing such a deed. I answer that
there was a great deal which was unreasoning and fanatical in the
hatred which he bore my heir. In his view he should himself have
been heir of all my estates, and he deeply resented those social
laws which made it impossible. At the same time, he had a definite
motive also. He was eager that I should break the entail, and he was
of opinion that it lay in my power to do so. He intended to make a
bargain with me- to restore Arthur if I would break the entail, and so
make it possible for the estate to be left to him by will. He knew
well that I should never willingly invoke the aid of the police
against him. I say that he would have proposed such a bargain to me,
but he did not actually do so, for events moved too quickly for,
him, and he had not time to put his plans into practice.
  "What brought all his wicked scheme to wreck was your discovery of
this man Heidegger's dead body. James was seized with horror at the
news. It came to us yesterday, as we sat together in this study. Dr.
Huxtable had sent a telegram. James was so overwhelmed with grief
and agitation that my suspicions, which had never been entirely absent
rose instantly to a certainty, and I taxed him with the deed. He
made a complete voluntary confession. Then he implored me to keep
his secret for three days longer, so as to give his wretched
accomplice a chance of saving his guilty life. I yielded- as I have
always yielded- to his prayers, and instantly James hurried off to the
Fighting Cock to warn Hayes and give him the means of flight. I
could not go there by daylight without provoking comment, but as
soon as night fell I hurried off to see my dear Arthur. I found him
safe and well, but horrified beyond expression by the dreadful deed he
had witnessed. In deference to my promise, and much against my will, I
consented to leave him there for three days, under the charge of
Mrs. Hayes, since it was evident that it was impossible to inform
the police where he was without telling them also who was the
murderer, and I could not see how that murderer could be punished
without ruin to my unfortunate James. You asked for frankness, Mr.
Holmes, and I have taken you at your word, for I have now told you
everything without an attempt at circumlocution or concealment. Do you
in turn be as frank with me."
  "I will," said Holmes. "In the first place, your Grace, I am bound
to tell you that you have placed yourself in a most serious position
in the eyes of the law. You have condoned a felony, and you have aided
the escape of a murderer, for I cannot doubt that any money which
was taken by James Wilder to aid his accomplice in his flight came
from your Grace's purse."
  The Duke bowed his assent.
  "This is, indeed, a most serious matter. Even more culpable in my
opinion, your Grace, is your attitude towards your younger son. You
leave him in this den for three days."
  "Under solemn promises-"
  "What are promises to such people as these? You have no guarantee
that he will not be spirited away again. To humour your guilty elder
son, you have exposed your innocent younger son to imminent and
unnecessary danger. It was a most unjustifiable action."
  The proud lord of Holdernesse was not accustomed to be so rated in
his own ducal hall. The blood flushed into his high forehead, but
his conscience held him dumb.
  "I will help you, but on one condition only. It is that you ring for
the footman and let me give such orders as I like."
  Without a word, the Duke pressed the electric bell. A servant
entered.
  "You will be glad to hear," said Holmes, "that your young master
is found. It is the Duke's desire that the carriage shall go at once
to the Fighting Cock Inn to bring Lord Saltire home.
  "Now," said Holmes, when the rejoicing lackey had disappeared,
"having secured the future, we can afford to be more lenient with
the past. I am not in an official position, and there is no reason, so
long as the ends of justice are served, why I should disclose all that
I know. As to Hayes, I say nothing. The gallows awaits him, and I
would do nothing to save him from it. What he will divulge I cannot
tell, but I have no doubt that your Grace could make him understand
that it is to his interest to be silent. From the police point of view
he will have kidnapped the boy for the purpose of ransom. If they do
not themselves find it out, I see no reason why I should prompt them
to take a broader point of view. I would warn your Grace, however,
that the continued presence of Mr. James Wilder in your household
can only lead to misfortune."
  "I understand that, Mr. Holmes, and it is already settled that he
shall leave me forever, and go to seek his fortune in Australia."
  "In that case, your Grace, since you have yourself stated that any
unhappiness in your married life was caused by his presence I would
suggest that you make such amends as you can to the Duchess, and
that you try to resume those relations which have been so unhappily
interrupted."
  "That also I have arranged, Mr. Holmes. I wrote to the Duchess
this morning."
  "In that case," said Holmes, rising, "I think that my friend and I
can congratulate ourselves upon several most happy results from our
little visit to the North. There is one other small point upon which I
desire some light. This fellow Hayes had shod his horses with shoes
which counterfeited the tracks of cows. Was it from Mr. Wilder that he
learned so extraordinary a device?"
  The Duke stood in thought for a moment, with a look of intense
surprise on his face. Then he opened a door and showed us into a large
room furnished as a museum. He led the way to a glass case in a
corner, and pointed to the inscription.
  "These shoes," it ran, "were dug up in the moat of Holdernesse Hall.
They are for the use of horses, but they are shaped below with a
cloven foot of iron, so as to throw pursuers off the track. They are
supposed to have belonged to some of the marauding Barons of
Holdernesse in the Middle Ages."
  Holmes opened the case, and moistening his finger he passed it along
the shoe. A thin film of recent mud was left upon his skin.
  "Thank you," said he, as he replaced the glass. "It is the second
most interesting object that I have seen in the North."
  "And the first?"
  Holmes folded up his check and placed it carefully in his
notebook. "I am a poor man," said he, as he patted it
affectionately, and thrust it into the depths of his inner pocket.


                              -THE END-
