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 tyres.
This, as you perceive, is a Dunlop, with a patch upon the outer cover.
Heidegger's tyres 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.
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