“I have always found him an excellent servant.”
“I presume that you made an inventory of what he had in hispockets at the time of his death, Inspector?”
“I have the things themselves in the sitting-room, if you wouldcare to see them.”
“I should be very glad.” We all filed into the front room andsat round the central table while the Inspector unlocked a squaretin box and laid a small heap of things before us. There was a boxof vestas, two inches of tallow candle, an A D P brier-root pipe,a pouch of sealskin with half an ounce of long-cut Cavendish, asilver watch with a gold chain, five sovereigns in gold, an aluminumpencil-case, a few papers, and an ivory-handled knife with a verydelicate, inflexible blade marked Weiss & Co., London.
“This is a very singular knife,” said Holmes, lifting it up andexamining it minutely. “I presume, as I see bloodstains uponit, that it is the one which was found in the dead man’s grasp.
Watson, this knife is surely in your line?”
“It is what we call a cataract knife,” said I.
“I thought so. A very delicate blade devised for very delicatework. A strange thing for a man to carry with him upon a roughexpedition, especially as it would not shut in his pocket.”
“The tip was guarded by a disk of cork which we found besidehis body,” said the Inspector. “His wife tells us that the knife hadlain upon the dressing-table, and that he had picked it up as heleft the room. It was a poor weapon, but perhaps the best that hecould lay his hands on at the moment.”
“Very possible. How about these papers?”
“Three of them are receipted hay-dealers’ accounts. One ofthem is a letter of instructions from Colonel Ross. This other isa milliner’s account for thirty-seven pounds fifteen made out byMadame Lesurier, of Bond Street, to William Derbyshire. Mrs.
Straker tells us that Derbyshire was a friend of her husband’s andthat occasionally his letters were addressed here.”
“Madam Derbyshire had somewhat expensive tastes,” remarkedHolmes, glancing down the account. “Twenty-two guineas israther heavy for a single costume. However there appears to benothing more to learn, and we may now go down to the scene ofthe crime.”
As we emerged from the sitting-room a woman, who had beenwaiting in the passage, took a step forward and laid her hand uponthe Inspector’s sleeve. Her face was haggard and thin and eager,stamped with the print of a recent horror.
“Have you got them? Have you found them?” she panted.
“No, Mrs. Straker. But Mr. Holmes here has come from Londonto help us, and we shall do all that is possible.”
“Surely I met you in Plymouth at a garden-party some little timeago, Mrs. Straker?” said Holmes.
“No, sir; you are mistaken.”
“Dear me! Why, I could have sworn to it. You wore a costume ofdove-colored silk with ostrich-feather trimming.”
“I never had such a dress, sir,” answered the lady.
“Ah, that quite settles it,” said Holmes. And with an apology hefollowed the Inspector outside. A short walk across the moor tookus to the hollow in which the body had been found. At the brinkof it was the furze-bush upon which the coat had been hung.
“There was no wind that night, I understand,” said Holmes.
“None; but very heavy rain.”
“In that case the overcoat was not blown against the furze-bush,but placed there.”
“Yes, it was laid across the bush.”
“You fill me with interest, I perceive that the ground has beentrampled up a good deal. No doubt many feet have been here sinceMonday night.”
“A piece of matting has been laid here at the side, and we haveall stood upon that.”
“Excellent.”
“In this bag I have one of the boots which Straker wore, one ofFitzroy Simpson’s shoes, and a cast horseshoe of Silver Blaze.”
“My dear Inspector, you surpass yourself!” Holmes took thebag, and, descending into the hollow, he pushed the matting into amore central position. Then stretching himself upon his face andleaning his chin upon his hands, he made a careful study of thetrampled mud in front of him. “Hullo!” said he, suddenly. “What’sthis?” It was a wax vesta half burned, which was so coated withmud that it looked at first like a little chip of wood.
“I cannot think how I came to overlook it,” said the inspector,with an expression of annoyance.
“It was invisible, buried in the mud. I only saw it because I waslooking for it.”
“What! You expected to find it?”
“I thought it not unlikely.”
He took the boots from the bag, and compared the impressionsof each of them with marks upon the ground. Then he clamberedup to the rim of the hollow, and crawled about among the fernsand bushes.
“I am afraid that there are no more tracks,” said the Inspector.
“I have examined the ground very carefully for a hundred yards ineach direction.”
“Indeed!” said Holmes, rising. “I should not have the impertinenceto do it again after what you say. But I should like to take a little walkover the moor before it grows dark, that I may know my groundto-morrow, and I think that I shall put this horseshoe into mypocket for luck.”
Colonel Ross, who had shown some signs of impatience at mycompanion’s quiet and systematic method of work, glanced at hiswatch. “I wish you would come back with me, Inspector,” said he.
“There are several points on which I should like your advice, andespecially as to whether we do not owe it to the public to removeour horse’s name from the entries for the cup.”
“Certainly not,” cried Holmes, with decision. “I should let thename stand.”
The Colonel bowed. “I am very glad to have had your opinion,sir,” said he. “You will find us at poor Straker’s house when youhave finished your walk, and we can drive together into Tavistock.”
He turned back with the Inspector, while Holmes and I walkedslowly across the moor. The sun was beginning to sink behind thestables of Mapleton, and the long, sloping plain in front of us wastinged with gold, deepening into rich, ruddy browns where thefaded ferns and brambles caught the evening light. But the gloriesof the landscape were all wasted upon my companion, who wassunk in the deepest thought.
