It opened on to a squalid courtyard.
In the far corner was a smithy, where a grimy lad was at work.
On the other side were the stables. Holmes had sat down again
after one of these excursions, when he suddenly sprang out of
his chair with a loud exclamation.
"By Heaven, Watson, I believe that I've got it!" he cried.
"Yes, yes, it must be so. Watson, do you remember seeing any
cow-tracks to-day?"
"Yes, several."
"Where?"
"Well, everywhere. They were at the morass, and again
on the path, and again near where poor Heidegger met his death."
"Exactly. Well, now, Watson, how many cows did you see on the moor?"
"I don't remember seeing any."
"Strange, Watson, that we should see tracks all along our line,
but never a cow on the whole moor; very strange, Watson, eh?"
"Yes, it is strange."
"Now, Watson, make an effort; throw your mind back!
Can you see those tracks upon the path?"
"Yes, I can."
"Can you recall that the tracks were sometimes like that,
Watson" -- he arranged a number of bread-crumbs in this fashion
-- : : : : : -- "and sometimes like this" -- : . : . : . : . --
"and occasionally like this" -- .
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