On the contrary, his austere face was even more
severe than usual as he commented upon the things that I had
done and the things that I had not.
"Your hiding-place, my dear Watson, was very faulty. You should
have been behind the hedge; then you would have had a close view
of this interesting person. As it is you were some hundreds
of yards away, and can tell me even less than Miss Smith.
She thinks she does not know the man; I am convinced she does.
Why, otherwise, should he be so desperately anxious that she
should not get so near him as to see his features? You describe
him as bending over the handle-bar. Concealment again, you see.
You really have done remarkably badly. He returns to the house and
you want to find out who he is. You come to a London house-agent!"
"What should I have done?" I cried, with some heat.
"Gone to the nearest public-house. That is the centre of
country gossip. They would have told you every name, from the
master to the scullery-maid. Williamson! It conveys nothing to
my mind. If he is an elderly man he is not this active cyclist
who sprints away from that athletic young lady's pursuit.
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