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the memoirs of sherlock holmesby sir arthur conan doyle adventure 1: “silver blaze” “i am afraid, watson, that i shall haveto go,” said holmes, as we sat down together to our breakfast one morning. “go! where to?” “to dartmoor; to king’s pyland.” i was not surprised. indeed, my only wonderwas that he had not already been mixed up in this extraordinary case, which was theone topic of conversation through the length and breadth of england. for a whole day mycompanion had rambled about the room with

his chin upon his chest and his brows knitted,charging and recharging his pipe with the strongest black tobacco, and absolutely deafto any of my questions or remarks. fresh editions of every paper had been sent up by our newsagent, only to be glanced over and tossed down into a corner. yet, silent as he was,i knew perfectly well what it was over which he was brooding. there was but one problembefore the public which could challenge his powers of analysis, and that was the singulardisappearance of the favorite for the wessex cup, and the tragic murder of its trainer.when, therefore, he suddenly announced his intention of setting out for the scene ofthe drama it was only what i had both expected and hoped for.

“i should be most happy to go down withyou if i should not be in the way,” said i. “my dear watson, you would confer a greatfavor upon me by coming. and i think that your time will not be misspent, for thereare points about the case which promise to make it an absolutely unique one. we have,i think, just time to catch our train at paddington, and i will go further into the matter uponour journey. you would oblige me by bringing with you your very excellent field-glass.” and so it happened that an hour or so lateri found myself in the corner of a first-class carriage flying along en route for exeter,while sherlock holmes, with his sharp, eager

face framed in his ear-flapped travelling-cap,dipped rapidly into the bundle of fresh papers which he had procured at paddington. we hadleft reading far behind us before he thrust the last one of them under the seat, and offeredme his cigar-case. “we are going well,” said he, lookingout the window and glancing at his watch. “our rate at present is fifty-three anda half miles an hour.” “i have not observed the quarter-mile posts,”said i. “nor have i. but the telegraph posts uponthis line are sixty yards apart, and the calculation is a simple one. i presume that you have lookedinto this matter of the murder of john straker and the disappearance of silver blaze?”

“i have seen what the telegraph and thechronicle have to say.” “it is one of those cases where the artof the reasoner should be used rather for the sifting of details than for the acquiringof fresh evidence. the tragedy has been so uncommon, so complete and of such personalimportance to so many people, that we are suffering from a plethora of surmise, conjecture,and hypothesis. the difficulty is to detach the framework of fact—of absolute undeniablefact—from the embellishments of theorists and reporters. then, having established ourselvesupon this sound basis, it is our duty to see what inferences may be drawn and what arethe special points upon which the whole mystery turns. on tuesday evening i received telegramsfrom both colonel ross, the owner of the horse,

and from inspector gregory, who is lookingafter the case, inviting my cooperation.” “tuesday evening!” i exclaimed. “andthis is thursday morning. why didn’t you go down yesterday?” “because i made a blunder, my dear watson—whichis, i am afraid, a more common occurrence than any one would think who only knew methrough your memoirs. the fact is that i could not believe it possible that the most remarkablehorse in england could long remain concealed, especially in so sparsely inhabited a placeas the north of dartmoor. from hour to hour yesterday i expected to hear that he had beenfound, and that his abductor was the murderer of john straker. when, however, another morninghad come, and i found that beyond the arrest

of young fitzroy simpson nothing had beendone, i felt that it was time for me to take action. yet in some ways i feel that yesterdayhas not been wasted.” “you have formed a theory, then?” “at least i have got a grip of the essentialfacts of the case. i shall enumerate them to you, for nothing clears up a case so muchas stating it to another person, and i can hardly expect your co-operation if i do notshow you the position from which we start.” i lay back against the cushions, puffing atmy cigar, while holmes, leaning forward, with his long, thin forefinger checking off thepoints upon the palm of his left hand, gave me a sketch of the events which had led toour journey.

“silver blaze,” said he, “is from thesomomy stock, and holds as brilliant a record as his famous ancestor. he is now in his fifthyear, and has brought in turn each of the prizes of the turf to colonel ross, his fortunateowner. up to the time of the catastrophe he was the first favorite for the wessex cup,the betting being three to one on him. he has always, however, been a prime favoritewith the racing public, and has never yet disappointed them, so that even at those oddsenormous sums of money have been laid upon him. it is obvious, therefore, that therewere many people who had the strongest interest in preventing silver blaze from being thereat the fall of the flag next tuesday. “the fact was, of course, appreciated atking’s pyland, where the colonel’s training-stable

is situated. every precaution was taken toguard the favorite. the trainer, john straker, is a retired jockey who rode in colonel ross’scolors before he became too heavy for the weighing-chair. he has served the colonelfor five years as jockey and for seven as trainer, and has always shown himself to bea zealous and honest servant. under him were three lads; for the establishment was a smallone, containing only four horses in all. one of these lads sat up each night in the stable,while the others slept in the loft. all three bore excellent characters. john straker, whois a married man, lived in a small villa about two hundred yards from the stables. he hasno children, keeps one maid-servant, and is comfortably off. the country round is verylonely, but about half a mile to the north

there is a small cluster of villas which havebeen built by a tavistock contractor for the use of invalids and others who may wish toenjoy the pure dartmoor air. tavistock itself lies two miles to the west, while across themoor, also about two miles distant, is the larger training establishment of mapleton,which belongs to lord backwater, and is managed by silas brown. in every other direction themoor is a complete wilderness, inhabited only by a few roaming gypsies. such was the generalsituation last monday night when the catastrophe occurred. “on that evening the horses had been exercisedand watered as usual, and the stables were locked up at nine o’clock. two of the ladswalked up to the trainer’s house, where

they had supper in the kitchen, while thethird, ned hunter, remained on guard. at a few minutes after nine the maid, edith baxter,carried down to the stables his supper, which consisted of a dish of curried mutton. shetook no liquid, as there was a water-tap in the stables, and it was the rule that thelad on duty should drink nothing else. the maid carried a lantern with her, as it wasvery dark and the path ran across the open moor. “edith baxter was within thirty yards ofthe stables, when a man appeared out of the darkness and called to her to stop. as hestepped into the circle of yellow light thrown by the lantern she saw that he was a personof gentlemanly bearing, dressed in a gray

suit of tweeds, with a cloth cap. he woregaiters, and carried a heavy stick with a knob to it. she was most impressed, however,by the extreme pallor of his face and by the nervousness of his manner. his age, she thought,would be rather over thirty than under it. “’can you tell me where i am?’ he asked.‘i had almost made up my mind to sleep on the moor, when i saw the light of your lantern.’ “’you are close to the king’s pylandtraining-stables,’ said she. “’oh, indeed! what a stroke of luck!’he cried. ‘i understand that a stable-boy sleeps there alone every night. perhaps thatis his supper which you are carrying to him. now i am sure that you would not be too proudto earn the price of a new dress, would you?’

he took a piece of white paper folded up outof his waistcoat pocket. ‘see that the boy has this to-night, and you shall have theprettiest frock that money can buy.’ “she was frightened by the earnestness ofhis manner, and ran past him to the window through which she was accustomed to hand themeals. it was already opened, and hunter was seated at the small table inside. she hadbegun to tell him of what had happened, when the stranger came up again. “’good-evening,’ said he, looking throughthe window. ‘i wanted to have a word with you.’ the girl has sworn that as he spokeshe noticed the corner of the little paper packet protruding from his closed hand.

“’what business have you here?’ askedthe lad. “’it’s business that may put somethinginto your pocket,’ said the other. ‘you’ve two horses in for the wessex cup—silverblaze and bayard. let me have the straight tip and you won’t be a loser. is it a factthat at the weights bayard could give the other a hundred yards in five furlongs, andthat the stable have put their money on him?’ “’so, you’re one of those damned touts!’cried the lad. ‘i’ll show you how we serve them in king’s pyland.’ he sprang up andrushed across the stable to unloose the dog. the girl fled away to the house, but as sheran she looked back and saw that the stranger was leaning through the window. a minute later,however, when hunter rushed out with the hound

he was gone, and though he ran all round thebuildings he failed to find any trace of him.” “one moment,” i asked. “did the stable-boy,when he ran out with the dog, leave the door unlocked behind him?” “excellent, watson, excellent!” murmuredmy companion. “the importance of the point struck me so forcibly that i sent a specialwire to dartmoor yesterday to clear the matter up. the boy locked the door before he leftit. the window, i may add, was not large enough for a man to get through. “hunter waited until his fellow-grooms hadreturned, when he sent a message to the trainer and told him what had occurred. straker wasexcited at hearing the account, although he

does not seem to have quite realized its truesignificance. it left him, however, vaguely uneasy, and mrs. straker, waking at one inthe morning, found that he was dressing. in reply to her inquiries, he said that he couldnot sleep on account of his anxiety about the horses, and that he intended to walk downto the stables to see that all was well. she begged him to remain at home, as she couldhear the rain pattering against the window, but in spite of her entreaties he pulled onhis large mackintosh and left the house. “mrs. straker awoke at seven in the morning,to find that her husband had not yet returned. she dressed herself hastily, called the maid,and set off for the stables. the door was open; inside, huddled together upon a chair,hunter was sunk in a state of absolute stupor,

the favorite’s stall was empty, and therewere no signs of his trainer. “the two lads who slept in the chaff-cuttingloft above the harness-room were quickly aroused. they had heard nothing during the night, forthey are both sound sleepers. hunter was obviously under the influence of some powerful drug,and as no sense could be got out of him, he was left to sleep it off while the two ladsand the two women ran out in search of the absentees. they still had hopes that the trainerhad for some reason taken out the horse for early exercise, but on ascending the knollnear the house, from which all the neighboring moors were visible, they not only could seeno signs of the missing favorite, but they perceived something which warned them thatthey were in the presence of a tragedy.

“about a quarter of a mile from the stablesjohn straker’s overcoat was flapping from a furze-bush. immediately beyond there wasa bowl-shaped depression in the moor, and at the bottom of this was found the dead bodyof the unfortunate trainer. his head had been shattered by a savage blow from some heavyweapon, and he was wounded on the thigh, where there was a long, clean cut, inflicted evidentlyby some very sharp instrument. it was clear, however, that straker had defended himselfvigorously against his assailants, for in his right hand he held a small knife, whichwas clotted with blood up to the handle, while in his left he clasped a red and black silkcravat, which was recognized by the maid as having been worn on the preceding eveningby the stranger who had visited the stables.

hunter, on recovering from his stupor, wasalso quite positive as to the ownership of the cravat. he was equally certain that thesame stranger had, while standing at the window, drugged his curried mutton, and so deprivedthe stables of their watchman. as to the missing horse, there were abundant proofs in the mudwhich lay at the bottom of the fatal hollow that he had been there at the time of thestruggle. but from that morning he has disappeared, and although a large reward has been offered,and all the gypsies of dartmoor are on the alert, no news has come of him. finally, ananalysis has shown that the remains of his supper left by the stable-lad contain an appreciablequantity of powdered opium, while the people at the house partook of the same dish on thesame night without any ill effect.

“those are the main facts of the case, strippedof all surmise, and stated as baldly as possible. i shall now recapitulate what the police havedone in the matter. “inspector gregory, to whom the case hasbeen committed, is an extremely competent officer. were he but gifted with imaginationhe might rise to great heights in his profession. on his arrival he promptly found and arrestedthe man upon whom suspicion naturally rested. there was little difficulty in finding him,for he inhabited one of those villas which i have mentioned. his name, it appears, wasfitzroy simpson. he was a man of excellent birth and education, who had squandered afortune upon the turf, and who lived now by doing a little quiet and genteel book-makingin the sporting clubs of london. an examination

of his betting-book shows that bets to theamount of five thousand pounds had been registered by him against the favorite. on being arrestedhe volunteered that statement that he had come down to dartmoor in the hope of gettingsome information about the king’s pyland horses, and also about desborough, the secondfavorite, which was in charge of silas brown at the mapleton stables. he did not attemptto deny that he had acted as described upon the evening before, but declared that he hadno sinister designs, and had simply wished to obtain first-hand information. when confrontedwith his cravat, he turned very pale, and was utterly unable to account for its presencein the hand of the murdered man. his wet clothing showed that he had been out in the storm ofthe night before, and his stick, which was

a penang-lawyer weighted with lead, was justsuch a weapon as might, by repeated blows, have inflicted the terrible injuries to whichthe trainer had succumbed. on the other hand, there was no wound upon his person, whilethe state of straker’s knife would show that one at least of his assailants must bearhis mark upon him. there you have it all in a nutshell, watson, and if you can give meany light i shall be infinitely obliged to you.” i had listened with the greatest interestto the statement which holmes, with characteristic clearness, had laid before me. though mostof the facts were familiar to me, i had not sufficiently appreciated their relative importance,nor their connection to each other.

“is it not possible,” i suggested, “thatthe incised wound upon straker may have been caused by his own knife in the convulsivestruggles which follow any brain injury?” “it is more than possible; it is probable,”said holmes. “in that case one of the main points in favor of the accused disappears.” “and yet,” said i, “even now i failto understand what the theory of the police can be.” “i am afraid that whatever theory we statehas very grave objections to it,” returned my companion. “the police imagine, i takeit, that this fitzroy simpson, having drugged the lad, and having in some way obtained aduplicate key, opened the stable door and

took out the horse, with the intention, apparently,of kidnapping him altogether. his bridle is missing, so that simpson must have put thison. then, having left the door open behind him, he was leading the horse away over themoor, when he was either met or overtaken by the trainer. a row naturally ensued. simpsonbeat out the trainer’s brains with his heavy stick without receiving any injury from thesmall knife which straker used in self-defense, and then the thief either led the horse onto some secret hiding-place, or else it may have bolted during the struggle, and be nowwandering out on the moors. that is the case as it appears to the police, and improbableas it is, all other explanations are more improbable still. however, i shall very quicklytest the matter when i am once upon the spot,

and until then i cannot really see how wecan get much further than our present position.” it was evening before we reached the littletown of tavistock, which lies, like the boss of a shield, in the middle of the huge circleof dartmoor. two gentlemen were awaiting us in the station—the one a tall, fair manwith lion-like hair and beard and curiously penetrating light blue eyes; the other a small,alert person, very neat and dapper, in a frock-coat and gaiters, with trim little side-whiskersand an eye-glass. the latter was colonel ross, the well-known sportsman; the other, inspectorgregory, a man who was rapidly making his name in the english detective service. “i am delighted that you have come down,mr. holmes,” said the colonel. “the inspector

here has done all that could possibly be suggested,but i wish to leave no stone unturned in trying to avenge poor straker and in recovering myhorse.” “have there been any fresh developments?”asked holmes. “i am sorry to say that we have made verylittle progress,” said the inspector. “we have an open carriage outside, and as youwould no doubt like to see the place before the light fails, we might talk it over aswe drive.” a minute later we were all seated in a comfortablelandau, and were rattling through the quaint old devonshire city. inspector gregory wasfull of his case, and poured out a stream of remarks, while holmes threw in an occasionalquestion or interjection. colonel ross leaned

back with his arms folded and his hat tiltedover his eyes, while i listened with interest to the dialogue of the two detectives. gregorywas formulating his theory, which was almost exactly what holmes had foretold in the train. “the net is drawn pretty close round fitzroysimpson,” he remarked, “and i believe myself that he is our man. at the same timei recognize that the evidence is purely circumstantial, and that some new development may upset it.” “how about straker’s knife?” “we have quite come to the conclusion thathe wounded himself in his fall.” “my friend dr. watson made that suggestionto me as we came down. if so, it would tell

against this man simpson.” “undoubtedly. he has neither a knife norany sign of a wound. the evidence against him is certainly very strong. he had a greatinterest in the disappearance of the favorite. he lies under suspicion of having poisonedthe stable-boy, he was undoubtedly out in the storm, he was armed with a heavy stick,and his cravat was found in the dead man’s hand. i really think we have enough to gobefore a jury.” holmes shook his head. “a clever counselwould tear it all to rags,” said he. “why should he take the horse out of the stable?if he wished to injure it why could he not do it there? has a duplicate key been foundin his possession? what chemist sold him the

powdered opium? above all, where could he,a stranger to the district, hide a horse, and such a horse as this? what is his ownexplanation as to the paper which he wished the maid to give to the stable-boy?” “he says that it was a ten-pound note. onewas found in his purse. but your other difficulties are not so formidable as they seem. he isnot a stranger to the district. he has twice lodged at tavistock in the summer. the opiumwas probably brought from london. the key, having served its purpose, would be hurledaway. the horse may be at the bottom of one of the pits or old mines upon the moor.” “what does he say about the cravat?”

“he acknowledges that it is his, and declaresthat he had lost it. but a new element has been introduced into the case which may accountfor his leading the horse from the stable.” holmes pricked up his ears. “we have found traces which show that aparty of gypsies encamped on monday night within a mile of the spot where the murdertook place. on tuesday they were gone. now, presuming that there was some understandingbetween simpson and these gypsies, might he not have been leading the horse to them whenhe was overtaken, and may they not have him now?” “it is certainly possible.”

“the moor is being scoured for these gypsies.i have also examined every stable and out-house in tavistock, and for a radius of ten miles.” “there is another training-stable quiteclose, i understand?” “yes, and that is a factor which we mustcertainly not neglect. as desborough, their horse, was second in the betting, they hadan interest in the disappearance of the favorite. silas brown, the trainer, is known to havehad large bets upon the event, and he was no friend to poor straker. we have, however,examined the stables, and there is nothing to connect him with the affair.” “and nothing to connect this man simpsonwith the interests of the mapleton stables?”

“nothing at all.” holmes leaned back in the carriage, and theconversation ceased. a few minutes later our driver pulled up at a neat little red-brickvilla with overhanging eaves which stood by the road. some distance off, across a paddock,lay a long gray-tiled out-building. in every other direction the low curves of the moor,bronze-colored from the fading ferns, stretched away to the sky-line, broken only by the steeplesof tavistock, and by a cluster of houses away to the westward which marked the mapletonstables. we all sprang out with the exception of holmes, who continued to lean back withhis eyes fixed upon the sky in front of him, entirely absorbed in his own thoughts. itwas only when i touched his arm that he roused

himself with a violent start and stepped outof the carriage. a horse “excuse me,” said he, turning to colonelross, who had looked at him in some surprise. “i was day-dreaming.” there was a gleamin his eyes and a suppressed excitement in his manner which convinced me, used as i wasto his ways, that his hand was upon a clue, though i could not imagine where he had foundit. “perhaps you would prefer at once to goon to the scene of the crime, mr. holmes?” said gregory. “i think that i should prefer to stay herea little and go into one or two questions

of detail. straker was brought back here,i presume?” “yes; he lies upstairs. the inquest is to-morrow.” “he has been in your service some years,colonel ross?” “i have always found him an excellent servant.” “i presume that you made an inventory ofwhat he had in his pockets at the time of his death, inspector?” “i have the things themselves in the sitting-room,if you would care to see them.” “i should be very glad.” we all filedinto the front room and sat round the central table while the inspector unlocked a squaretin box and laid a small heap of things before

us. there was a box of vestas, two inchesof tallow candle, an a d p brier-root pipe, a pouch of seal-skin with half an ounce oflong-cut cavendish, a silver watch with a gold chain, five sovereigns in gold, an aluminumpencil-case, a few papers, and an ivory-handled knife with a very delicate, inflexible blademarked weiss & co., london. “this is a very singular knife,” saidholmes, lifting it up and examining it minutely. “i presume, as i see blood-stains upon it,that it is the one which was found in the dead man’s grasp. watson, this knife issurely in your line?” “it is what we call a cataract knife,”said i. “i thought so. a very delicate blade devisedfor very delicate work. a strange thing for

a man to carry with him upon a rough expedition,especially as it would not shut in his pocket.” “the tip was guarded by a disk of cork whichwe found beside his body,” said the inspector. “his wife tells us that the knife had lainupon the dressing-table, and that he had picked it up as he left the room. it was a poor weapon,but perhaps the best that he could lay his hands on at the moment.” “very possible. how about these papers?” “three of them are receipted hay-dealers’accounts. one of them is a letter of instructions from colonel ross. this other is a milliner’saccount for thirty-seven pounds fifteen made out by madame lesurier, of bond street, towilliam derbyshire. mrs. straker tells us

that derbyshire was a friend of her husband’sand that occasionally his letters were addressed here.” “madam derbyshire had somewhat expensivetastes,” remarked holmes, glancing down the account. “twenty-two guineas is ratherheavy for a single costume. however there appears to be nothing more to learn, and wemay now go down to the scene of the crime.” as we emerged from the sitting-room a woman,who had been waiting in the passage, took a step forward and laid her hand upon theinspector’s sleeve. her face was haggard and thin and eager, stamped with the printof a recent horror. “have you got them? have you found them?”she panted.

“no, mrs. straker. but mr. holmes here hascome from london to help us, and we shall do all that is possible.” “surely i met you in plymouth at a garden-partysome little time ago, mrs. straker?” said holmes. “no, sir; you are mistaken.” “dear me! why, i could have sworn to it.you wore a costume of dove-colored silk with ostrich-feather trimming.” “i never had such a dress, sir,” answeredthe lady. “ah, that quite settles it,” said holmes.and with an apology he followed the inspector

outside. a short walk across the moor tookus to the hollow in which the body had been found. at the brink of it was the furze-bushupon 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 blownagainst the furze-bush, but placed there.” “yes, it was laid across the bush.” “you fill me with interest, i perceive thatthe ground has been trampled up a good deal. no doubt many feet have been here since mondaynight.” “a piece of matting has been laid here atthe side, and we have all stood upon that.”

“excellent.” “in this bag i have one of the boots whichstraker wore, one of fitzroy simpson’s shoes, and a cast horseshoe of silver blaze.” “my dear inspector, you surpass yourself!”holmes took the bag, and, descending into the hollow, he pushed the matting into a morecentral position. then stretching himself upon his face and leaning his chin upon hishands, he made a careful study of the trampled mud in front of him. “hullo!” said he,suddenly. “what’s this?” 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. ionly saw it because i was looking for it.” “what! you expected to find it?” “i thought it not unlikely.” he took the boots from the bag, and comparedthe impressions of each of them with marks upon the ground. then he clambered up to therim of the hollow, and crawled about among the ferns and bushes. “i am afraid that there are no more tracks,”said the inspector. “i have examined the

ground very carefully for a hundred yardsin each direction.” “indeed!” said holmes, rising. “i shouldnot have the impertinence to do it again after what you say. but i should like to take alittle walk over the moor before it grows dark, that i may know my ground to-morrow,and i think that i shall put this horseshoe into my pocket for luck.” colonel ross, who had shown some signs ofimpatience at my companion’s quiet and systematic method of work, glanced at his watch. “iwish you would come back with me, inspector,” said he. “there are several points on whichi should like your advice, and especially as to whether we do not owe it to the publicto remove our horse’s name from the entries

for the cup.” “certainly not,” cried holmes, with decision.“i should let the name stand.” the colonel bowed. “i am very glad to havehad your opinion, sir,” said he. “you will find us at poor straker’s house whenyou have finished your walk, and we can drive together into tavistock.” he turned back with the inspector, while holmesand i walked slowly across the moor. the sun was beginning to sink behind the stables ofmapleton, and the long, sloping plain in front of us was tinged with gold, deepening intorich, ruddy browns where the faded ferns and brambles caught the evening light. but theglories of the landscape were all wasted upon

my companion, who was sunk in the deepestthought. “it’s this way, watson,” said he atlast. “we may leave the question of who killed john straker for the instant, and confineourselves to finding out what has become of the horse. now, supposing that he broke awayduring or after the tragedy, where could he have gone to? the horse is a very gregariouscreature. if left to himself his instincts would have been either to return to king’spyland or go over to mapleton. why should he run wild upon the moor? he would surelyhave been seen by now. and why should gypsies kidnap him? these people always clear outwhen they hear of trouble, for they do not wish to be pestered by the police. they couldnot hope to sell such a horse. they would

run a great risk and gain nothing by takinghim. surely that is clear.” “where is he, then?” “i have already said that he must have goneto king’s pyland or to mapleton. he is not at king’s pyland. therefore he is at mapleton.let us take that as a working hypothesis and see what it leads us to. this part of themoor, as the inspector remarked, is very hard and dry. but it falls away towards mapleton,and you can see from here that there is a long hollow over yonder, which must have beenvery wet on monday night. if our supposition is correct, then the horse must have crossedthat, and there is the point where we should look for his tracks.”

we had been walking briskly during this conversation,and a few more minutes brought us to the hollow in question. at holmes’ request i walkeddown the bank to the right, and he to the left, but i had not taken fifty paces beforei heard him give a shout, and saw him waving his hand to me. the track of a horse was plainlyoutlined in the soft earth in front of him, and the shoe which he took from his pocketexactly fitted the impression. “see the value of imagination,” said holmes.“it is the one quality which gregory lacks. we imagined what might have happened, actedupon the supposition, and find ourselves justified. let us proceed.” we crossed the marshy bottom and passed overa quarter of a mile of dry, hard turf. again

the ground sloped, and again we came on thetracks. then we lost them for half a mile, but only to pick them up once more quite closeto mapleton. it was holmes who saw them first, and he stood pointing with a look of triumphupon his face. a man’s track was visible beside the horse’s. “the horse was alone before,” i cried. “quite so. it was alone before. hullo, whatis this?” the double track turned sharp off and tookthe direction of king’s pyland. holmes whistled, and we both followed along after it. his eyeswere on the trail, but i happened to look a little to one side, and saw to my surprisethe same tracks coming back again in the opposite

direction. “one for you, watson,” said holmes, wheni pointed it out. “you have saved us a long walk, which would have brought us back onour own traces. let us follow the return track.” we had not to go far. it ended at the pavingof asphalt which led up to the gates of the mapleton stables. as we approached, a groomran out from them. “we don’t want any loiterers about here,”said he. “i only wished to ask a question,” saidholmes, with his finger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket. “should i be too early to see yourmaster, mr. silas brown, if i were to call at five o’clock to-morrow morning?”

“bless you, sir, if any one is about hewill be, for he is always the first stirring. but here he is, sir, to answer your questionsfor himself. no, sir, no; it is as much as my place is worth to let him see me touchyour money. afterwards, if you like.” as sherlock holmes replaced the half-crownwhich he had drawn from his pocket, a fierce-looking elderly man strode out from the gate witha hunting-crop swinging in his hand. “what’s this, dawson!” he cried. “nogossiping! go about your business! and you, what the devil do you want here?” “ten minutes’ talk with you, my good sir,”said holmes in the sweetest of voices. “i’ve no time to talk to every gadabout.we want no stranger here. be off, or you may

find a dog at your heels.” holmes leaned forward and whispered somethingin the trainer’s ear. he started violently and flushed to the temples. “it’s a lie!” he shouted, “an infernallie!” “very good. shall we argue about it herein public or talk it over in your parlor?” “oh, come in if you wish to.” holmes smiled. “i shall not keep you morethan a few minutes, watson,” said he. “now, mr. brown, i am quite at your disposal.” it was twenty minutes, and the reds had allfaded into grays before holmes and the trainer

reappeared. never have i seen such a changeas had been brought about in silas brown in that short time. his face was ashy pale, beadsof perspiration shone upon his brow, and his hands shook until the hunting-crop waggedlike a branch in the wind. his bullying, overbearing manner was all gone too, and he cringed alongat my companion’s side like a dog with its master. “your instructions will be done. it shallall be done,” said he. “there must be no mistake,” said holmes,looking round at him. the other winced as he read the menace in his eyes. “oh no, there shall be no mistake. it shallbe there. should i change it first or not?”

holmes thought a little and then burst outlaughing. “no, don’t,” said he; “i shall write to you about it. no tricks, now,or—” “oh, you can trust me, you can trust me!” “yes, i think i can. well, you shall hearfrom me to-morrow.” he turned upon his heel, disregarding the trembling hand which theother held out to him, and we set off for king’s pyland. “a more perfect compound of the bully, coward,and sneak than master silas brown i have seldom met with,” remarked holmes as we trudgedalong together. “he has the horse, then?”

“he tried to bluster out of it, but i describedto him so exactly what his actions had been upon that morning that he is convinced thati was watching him. of course you observed the peculiarly square toes in the impressions,and that his own boots exactly corresponded to them. again, of course no subordinate wouldhave dared to do such a thing. i described to him how, when according to his custom hewas the first down, he perceived a strange horse wandering over the moor. how he wentout to it, and his astonishment at recognizing, from the white forehead which has given thefavorite its name, that chance had put in his power the only horse which could beatthe one upon which he had put his money. then i described how his first impulse had beento lead him back to king’s pyland, and how

the devil had shown him how he could hidethe horse until the race was over, and how he had led it back and concealed it at mapleton.when i told him every detail he gave it up and thought only of saving his own skin.” “but his stables had been searched?” “oh, an old horse-faker like him has manya dodge.” “but are you not afraid to leave the horsein his power now, since he has every interest in injuring it?” “my dear fellow, he will guard it as theapple of his eye. he knows that his only hope of mercy is to produce it safe.”

“colonel ross did not impress me as a manwho would be likely to show much mercy in any case.” “the matter does not rest with colonel ross.i follow my own methods, and tell as much or as little as i choose. that is the advantageof being unofficial. i don’t know whether you observed it, watson, but the colonel’smanner has been just a trifle cavalier to me. i am inclined now to have a little amusementat his expense. say nothing to him about the horse.” “certainly not without your permission.” “and of course this is all quite a minorpoint compared to the question of who killed

john straker.” “and you will devote yourself to that?” “on the contrary, we both go back to londonby the night train.” i was thunderstruck by my friend’s words.we had only been a few hours in devonshire, and that he should give up an investigationwhich he had begun so brilliantly was quite incomprehensible to me. not a word more couldi draw from him until we were back at the trainer’s house. the colonel and the inspectorwere awaiting us in the parlor. “my friend and i return to town by the night-express,”said holmes. “we have had a charming little breath of your beautiful dartmoor air.”

the inspector opened his eyes, and the colonel’slip curled in a sneer. “so you despair of arresting the murdererof poor straker,” said he. holmes shrugged his shoulders. “there arecertainly grave difficulties in the way,” said he. “i have every hope, however, thatyour horse will start upon tuesday, and i beg that you will have your jockey in readiness.might i ask for a photograph of mr. john straker?” the inspector took one from an envelope andhanded it to him. “my dear gregory, you anticipate all mywants. if i might ask you to wait here for an instant, i have a question which i shouldlike to put to the maid.” “i must say that i am rather disappointedin our london consultant,” said colonel

ross, bluntly, as my friend left the room.“i do not see that we are any further than when he came.” “at least you have his assurance that yourhorse will run,” said i. “yes, i have his assurance,” said thecolonel, with a shrug of his shoulders. “i should prefer to have the horse.” i was about to make some reply in defenseof my friend when he entered the room again. “now, gentlemen,” said he, “i am quiteready for tavistock.” as we stepped into the carriage one of thestable-lads held the door open for us. a sudden idea seemed to occur to holmes, for he leanedforward and touched the lad upon the sleeve.

“you have a few sheep in the paddock,”he said. “who attends to them?” “i do, sir.” “have you noticed anything amiss with themof late?” “well, sir, not of much account; but threeof them have gone lame, sir.” i could see that holmes was extremely pleased,for he chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “a long shot, watson; a very long shot,”said he, pinching my arm. “gregory, let me recommend to your attention this singularepidemic among the sheep. drive on, coachman!” colonel ross still wore an expression whichshowed the poor opinion which he had formed of my companion’s ability, but i saw bythe inspector’s face that his attention

had been keenly aroused. “you consider that to be important?” heasked. “exceedingly so.” “is there any point to which you would wishto draw my attention?” “to the curious incident of the dog in thenight-time.” “the dog did nothing in the night-time.” “that was the curious incident,” remarkedsherlock holmes. four days later holmes and i were again inthe train, bound for winchester to see the race for the wessex cup. colonel ross metus by appointment outside the station, and

we drove in his drag to the course beyondthe town. his face was grave, and his manner was cold in the extreme. “i have seen nothing of my horse,” saidhe. “i suppose that you would know him whenyou saw him?” asked holmes. the colonel was very angry. “i have beenon the turf for twenty years, and never was asked such a question as that before,” saidhe. “a child would know silver blaze, with his white forehead and his mottled off-foreleg.” “how is the betting?” “well, that is the curious part of it. youcould have got fifteen to one yesterday, but

the price has become shorter and shorter,until you can hardly get three to one now.” “hum!” said holmes. “somebody knowssomething, that is clear.” as the drag drew up in the enclosure nearthe grand stand i glanced at the card to see the entries. wessex plate [it ran] 50 sovs each h ft with1000 sovs added for four and five year olds. second, l300. third, l200. new course (onemile and five furlongs). mr. heath newton’s the negro. red cap. cinnamon jacket. colonelwardlaw’s pugilist. pink cap. blue and black jacket. lord backwater’s desborough. yellowcap and sleeves. colonel ross’s silver blaze. black cap. red jacket. duke of balmoral’siris. yellow and black stripes. lord singleford’s

rasper. purple cap. black sleeves. “we scratched our other one, and put allhopes on your word,” said the colonel. “why, what is that? silver blaze favorite?” “five to four against silver blaze!” roaredthe ring. “five to four against silver blaze! five to fifteen against desborough! five tofour on the field!” “there are the numbers up,” i cried. “theyare all six there.” “all six there? then my horse is running,”cried the colonel in great agitation. “but i don’t see him. my colors have not passed.” “only five have passed. this must be he.”

as i spoke a powerful bay horse swept outfrom the weighing enclosure and cantered past us, bearing on its back the well-known blackand red of the colonel. “that’s not my horse,” cried the owner.“that beast has not a white hair upon its body. what is this that you have done, mr.holmes?” “well, well, let us see how he gets on,”said my friend, imperturbably. for a few minutes he gazed through my field-glass. “capital!an excellent start!” he cried suddenly. “there they are, coming round the curve!” from our drag we had a superb view as theycame up the straight. the six horses were so close together that a carpet could havecovered them, but half way up the yellow of

the mapleton stable showed to the front. beforethey reached us, however, desborough’s bolt was shot, and the colonel’s horse, comingaway with a rush, passed the post a good six lengths before its rival, the duke of balmoral’siris making a bad third. “it’s my race, anyhow,” gasped the colonel,passing his hand over his eyes. “i confess that i can make neither head nor tail of it.don’t you think that you have kept up your mystery long enough, mr. holmes?” “certainly, colonel, you shall know everything.let us all go round and have a look at the horse together. here he is,” he continued,as we made our way into the weighing enclosure, where only owners and their friends find admittance.“you have only to wash his face and his

leg in spirits of wine, and you will findthat he is the same old silver blaze as ever.” “you take my breath away!” “i found him in the hands of a faker, andtook the liberty of running him just as he was sent over.” “my dear sir, you have done wonders. thehorse looks very fit and well. it never went better in its life. i owe you a thousand apologiesfor having doubted your ability. you have done me a great service by recovering my horse.you would do me a greater still if you could lay your hands on the murderer of john straker.” “i have done so,” said holmes quietly.

the colonel and i stared at him in amazement.“you have got him! where is he, then?” “he is here.” “here! where?” “in my company at the present moment.” the colonel flushed angrily. “i quite recognizethat i am under obligations to you, mr. holmes,” said he, “but i must regard what you havejust said as either a very bad joke or an insult.” sherlock holmes laughed. “i assure you thati have not associated you with the crime, colonel,” said he. “the real murdereris standing immediately behind you.” he

stepped past and laid his hand upon the glossyneck of the thoroughbred. “the horse!” cried both the colonel andmyself. “yes, the horse. and it may lessen his guiltif i say that it was done in self-defense, and that john straker was a man who was entirelyunworthy of your confidence. but there goes the bell, and as i stand to win a little onthis next race, i shall defer a lengthy explanation until a more fitting time.” we had the corner of a pullman car to ourselvesthat evening as we whirled back to london, and i fancy that the journey was a short oneto colonel ross as well as to myself, as we listened to our companion’s narrative ofthe events which had occurred at the dartmoor

training-stables upon the monday night, andthe means by which he had unravelled them. “i confess,” said he, “that any theorieswhich i had formed from the newspaper reports were entirely erroneous. and yet there wereindications there, had they not been overlaid by other details which concealed their trueimport. i went to devonshire with the conviction that fitzroy simpson was the true culprit,although, of course, i saw that the evidence against him was by no means complete. it waswhile i was in the carriage, just as we reached the trainer’s house, that the immense significanceof the curried mutton occurred to me. you may remember that i was distrait, and remainedsitting after you had all alighted. i was marvelling in my own mind how i could possiblyhave overlooked so obvious a clue.”

“i confess,” said the colonel, “thateven now i cannot see how it helps us.” “it was the first link in my chain of reasoning.powdered opium is by no means tasteless. the flavor is not disagreeable, but it is perceptible.were it mixed with any ordinary dish the eater would undoubtedly detect it, and would probablyeat no more. a curry was exactly the medium which would disguise this taste. by no possiblesupposition could this stranger, fitzroy simpson, have caused curry to be served in the trainer’sfamily that night, and it is surely too monstrous a coincidence to suppose that he happenedto come along with powdered opium upon the very night when a dish happened to be servedwhich would disguise the flavor. that is unthinkable. therefore simpson becomes eliminated fromthe case, and our attention centers upon straker

and his wife, the only two people who couldhave chosen curried mutton for supper that night. the opium was added after the dishwas set aside for the stable-boy, for the others had the same for supper with no illeffects. which of them, then, had access to that dish without the maid seeing them? “before deciding that question i had graspedthe significance of the silence of the dog, for one true inference invariably suggestsothers. the simpson incident had shown me that a dog was kept in the stables, and yet,though some one had been in and had fetched out a horse, he had not barked enough to arousethe two lads in the loft. obviously the midnight visitor was some one whom the dog knew well.

“i was already convinced, or almost convinced,that john straker went down to the stables in the dead of the night and took out silverblaze. for what purpose? for a dishonest one, obviously, or why should he drug his own stable-boy?and yet i was at a loss to know why. there have been cases before now where trainershave made sure of great sums of money by laying against their own horses, through agents,and then preventing them from winning by fraud. sometimes it is a pulling jockey. sometimesit is some surer and subtler means. what was it here? i hoped that the contents of hispockets might help me to form a conclusion. “and they did so. you cannot have forgottenthe singular knife which was found in the dead man’s hand, a knife which certainlyno sane man would choose for a weapon. it

was, as dr. watson told us, a form of knifewhich is used for the most delicate operations known in surgery. and it was to be used fora delicate operation that night. you must know, with your wide experience of turf matters,colonel ross, that it is possible to make a slight nick upon the tendons of a horse’sham, and to do it subcutaneously, so as to leave absolutely no trace. a horse so treatedwould develop a slight lameness, which would be put down to a strain in exercise or a touchof rheumatism, but never to foul play.” “villain! scoundrel!” cried the colonel. “we have here the explanation of why johnstraker wished to take the horse out on to the moor. so spirited a creature would havecertainly roused the soundest of sleepers

when it felt the prick of the knife. it wasabsolutely necessary to do it in the open air.” “i have been blind!” cried the colonel.“of course that was why he needed the candle, and struck the match.” “undoubtedly. but in examining his belongingsi was fortunate enough to discover not only the method of the crime, but even its motives.as a man of the world, colonel, you know that men do not carry other people’s bills aboutin their pockets. we have most of us quite enough to do to settle our own. i at onceconcluded that straker was leading a double life, and keeping a second establishment.the nature of the bill showed that there was

a lady in the case, and one who had expensivetastes. liberal as you are with your servants, one can hardly expect that they can buy twenty-guineawalking dresses for their ladies. i questioned mrs. straker as to the dress without her knowingit, and having satisfied myself that it had never reached her, i made a note of the milliner’saddress, and felt that by calling there with straker’s photograph i could easily disposeof the mythical derbyshire. “from that time on all was plain. strakerhad led out the horse to a hollow where his light would be invisible. simpson in his flighthad dropped his cravat, and straker had picked it up—with some idea, perhaps, that he mightuse it in securing the horse’s leg. once in the hollow, he had got behind the horseand had struck a light; but the creature frightened

at the sudden glare, and with the strangeinstinct of animals feeling that some mischief was intended, had lashed out, and the steelshoe had struck straker full on the forehead. he had already, in spite of the rain, takenoff his overcoat in order to do his delicate task, and so, as he fell, his knife gashedhis thigh. do i make it clear?” “wonderful!” cried the colonel. “wonderful!you might have been there!” “my final shot was, i confess a very longone. it struck me that so astute a man as straker would not undertake this delicatetendon-nicking without a little practice. what could he practice on? my eyes fell uponthe sheep, and i asked a question which, rather to my surprise, showed that my surmise wascorrect.

“when i returned to london i called uponthe milliner, who had recognized straker as an excellent customer of the name of derbyshire,who had a very dashing wife, with a strong partiality for expensive dresses. i have nodoubt that this woman had plunged him over head and ears in debt, and so led him intothis miserable plot.” “you have explained all but one thing,”cried the colonel. “where was the horse?” “ah, it bolted, and was cared for by oneof your neighbors. we must have an amnesty in that direction, i think. this is claphamjunction, if i am not mistaken, and we shall be in victoria in less than ten minutes. ifyou care to smoke a cigar in our rooms, colonel, i shall be happy to give you any other detailswhich might interest

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