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."
"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
r /> 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.
{GRAPHIC}
"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 w
hich 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