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The Adventure of the
Priory School
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Collier's Magazine
January, 1904


  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 pomp-
ous, 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 person-
ally, 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 Docu-
ments, 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. Min-
erals 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 prepara-
tory 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, three weeks ago, the Duke of Holdernesse sent Mr. James
Wilder, his secretary, with the intimation that young Lord Sal-
tire, 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 a struggle would have been heard, since
Caunter, the elder boy in the inner room, is a very light sleeper.
  "When Lord Saltire's disappearance was discovered, I at once
called a roll of the whole establishment -- boys, masters, and
servants. It was then that we ascertained that Lord Saltire had not
been alone in his flight. Heidegger, the German master, was
missing. His room was on the second floor, at the farther end of
the building, facing the same way as Lord Saltire's. His bed had
also been slept in, but he had apparently gone away partly
dressed, since his shirt and socks were lying on the floor. He had
undoubtedly let himself down by the ivy, for we could see the
marks of his feet where he had landed on the lawn. His bicycle
was kept in a small shed beside this lawn, and it also was gone.
  "He had been with me for two years, and came with the best
references, but he was a silent, morose man, not very popular
either with masters or boys. No trace could be found of the
fugitives, and now, on Thursday morning, we are as ignorant as
we were on Tuesday. Inquiry was, of course, made at once at
Holdernese 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 re-
sponsibility 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 com-
pletely immersed in large public questions, and is rather inacces-
sible to all ordinary emotions. But he was always kind to the boy
in hls own way."
  "But the sympathies 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 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 wher-
ever 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 grotes-
quely 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 particu-
larly 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 unbal-
anced him or induced him to take such a step?"
  "No, sir, cenainly 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 encour-
age so monstrous an action. but the lad had the most wrong-
headed opinions, and it is possible that he may have fled to her,
aided and abetted by this German. I think, Dr. Huxtable, that we
will now return to the Hall."
  I could see that there were other questions which Holmes
would have wished to put, but the nobleman's abrupt manner
showed that the interview was at an end. It was evident that to
his intensely aristocratic nature this discussion of his intimate
family affairs with a stranger was most abhorrent. and that he
feared lest every fresh question would throw a fiercer light into
the discreetly shadowed corners of his ducal history.
  When the nobleman and his secretary had left, my friend
flung himself at once with characteristic eagerness into the
investigation.
  The boy's chamber was carefully examined, and yielded noth-
ing 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 neighbour-
hood, 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 ques-
tion. 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 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 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 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 exhilara-
tion 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, exul-
tantly. "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 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 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 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 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 fright-
ened 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 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 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, 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 cun-
ning 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 his 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. "We'll 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, "we'll 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."
  "Where?"
  "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 con-
vulsed 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
Holdemesse 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 Holdemesse
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
cedrtnainly 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 alen 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 Holdemesse Hall. We were ush-
ered 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 retreat-
ing 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 con-
spire 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 thc 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 was
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 misfonune 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 abhor-
rent 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 Fight-
ing 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 cer-
tainty, 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 dread-
ful 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 accom-
plice 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 young-
er 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 older son, you have exposed your innocent younger
son to imminent and unnecessary danger. It was a most un-
justifiable action."
  The proud lord of Holdemesse 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 disap-
peared, "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
misfonune."
  "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 Holdemesse
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 affection-
ately, and thrust it into the depths of his inner pocket.

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