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

hearth-rug.

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 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

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 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 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."

GRAPHIC

"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 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 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 tires.

This, as you perceive, is a Dunlop, with a patch upon the outer

cover. Heidegger's tires 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 tires 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 tires.

"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 tire 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 tire 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-tired, 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

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 tire, 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 foot-marks."

"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 tire 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."

"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 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 tire. 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 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

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.