After a long and weary journey we alighted at a
small station some miles from Chatham. While a horse was being
put into a trap at the local inn we snatched a hurried breakfast,
and so we were all ready for business when we at last arrived
at Yoxley Old Place. A constable met us at the garden gate.
"Well, Wilson, any news?"
"No, sir, nothing."
"No reports of any stranger seen?"
"No, sir. Down at the station they are certain that no stranger
either came or went yesterday."
"Have you had inquiries made at inns and lodgings?"
"Yes, sir; there is no one that we cannot account for."
"Well, it's only a reasonable walk to Chatham. Anyone might
stay there, or take a train without being observed. This is the
garden path of which I spoke, Mr. Holmes. I'll pledge my word
there was no mark on it yesterday."
"On which side were the marks on the grass?"
"This side, sir. This narrow margin of grass between the path
and the flower-bed. I can't see the traces now, but they were
clear to me then."
"Yes, yes; someone has passed along," said Holmes, stooping over
the grass border. "Our lady must have picked her steps carefully,
must she not, since on the one side she would leave a track on
the path, and on the other an even clearer one on the soft bed?"
"Yes, sir, she must have been a cool hand.
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