"You infernal spies!" the man cried. "What are you doing there?"
"Why, Mr. Reuben Hayes," said Holmes, coolly, "one might think
that you were afraid of our finding something out."
The man mastered himself with a violent effort, and his grim mouth
loosened into a false laugh, which was more menacing than his frown.
"You're welcome to all you can find out in my smithy," said he.
"But look here, mister, I don't care for folk poking about my
place without my leave, so the sooner you pay your score and get
out of this the better I shall be pleased."
"All right, Mr. Hayes -- no harm meant," said Holmes.
"We have been having a look at your horses, but I think I'll
walk after all. It's not far, I believe."
"Not more than two miles to the Hall gates. That's the road
to the left." He watched us with sullen eyes until we had
left his premises.
We did not go very far along the road, for Holmes stopped
the instant that the curve hid us from the landlord's view.
"We were warm, as the children say, at that inn," said he.
"I seem to grow colder every step that I take away from it.
No, no; I can't possibly leave it.
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