"
"I am convinced," said I, "that this Reuben Hayes knows
all about it. A more self-evident villain I never saw."
"Oh! he impressed you in that way, did he? There are the horses,
there is the smithy. Yes, it is an interesting place,
this Fighting Cock. I think we shall have another look at it
in an unobtrusive way."
A long, sloping hillside, dotted with grey limestone boulders,
stretched behind us. We had turned off the road, and were
making our way up the hill, when, looking in the direction
of Holdernesse Hall, I saw a cyclist coming swiftly along.
"Get down, Watson!" cried Holmes, with a heavy hand upon my
shoulder. We had hardly sunk from view when the man flew past
us on the road. Amid a rolling cloud of dust I caught a glimpse
of a pale, agitated face -- a face with horror in every
lineament, the mouth open, the eyes staring wildly in front.
It was like some strange caricature of the dapper James Wilder
whom we had seen the night before.
"The Duke's secretary!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, let us see
what he does."
We scrambled from rock to rock until in a few moments we had
made our way to a point from which we could see the front door
of the inn.
Pages:
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223