"First of all I wish to impress upon you that the boy certainly left ofhis own free will. He got down from his window and he went off, eitheralone or with someone. That is sure."
I assented.
"Well, now, let us turn to this unfortunate German master. The boy wasfully dressed when he fled. Therefore, he foresaw what he would do.But the German went without his socks. He certainly acted on very shortnotice."
"Undoubtedly."
"Why did he go? Because, from his bedroom window, he saw the flight ofthe boy. Because he wished to overtake him and bring him back. He seizedhis 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 ofa man in pursuing a little boy would be to run after him. He would knowthat he could overtake him. But the German does not do so. He turns tohis bicycle. I am told that he was an excellent cyclist. He would not dothis 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 milesfrom the school--not by a bullet, mark you, which even a lad mightconceivably 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 swiftone, since it took five miles before an expert cyclist could overtakethem. Yet we survey the ground round the scene of the tragedy. What dowe find? A few cattle tracks, nothing more. I took a wide sweep round,and there is no path within fifty yards. Another cyclist could havehad nothing to do with the actual murder. Nor were there any humanfootmarks."
"Holmes," I cried, "this is impossible."
"Admirable!" he said. "A most illuminating remark. It IS impossible as Istate it, and therefore I must in some respect have stated it wrong. Yetyou 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 plentyof material, if we can only use it. Come, then, and, having exhaustedthe Palmer, let us see what the Dunlop with the patched cover has tooffer us."
We picked up the track and followed it onwards for some distance; butsoon the moor rose into a long, heather-tufted curve, and we left thewatercourse 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 equallyhave led to Holdernesse Hall, the stately towers of which rose somemiles to our left, or to a low, grey village which lay in front of us,and marked the position of the Chesterfield high road.
As we approached the forbidding and squalid inn, with the sign of agame-cock above the door, Holmes gave a sudden groan and clutched meby the shoulder to save himself from falling. He had had one of thoseviolent strains of the ankle which leave a man helpless. With difficultyhe limped up to the door, where a squat, dark, elderly man was smoking ablack clay pipe.
"How are you, Mr. Reuben Hayes?" said Holmes.
"Who are you, and how do you get my name so pat?" the countrymananswered, 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 manwho is master of his own house. I suppose you haven't such a thing as acarriage 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 withadmirable good-humour.
"Look here, my man," said he. "This is really rather an awkward fix forme. 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 useof a bicycle."