"What have you done, Holmes?" I asked.
"A threadbare and venerable device, but useful upon occasion.
I walked into the doctor's yard this morning and shot my
syringe full of aniseed over the hind wheel. A draghound will
follow aniseed from here to John o' Groat's, and our friend
Armstrong would have to drive through the Cam before he would
shake Pompey off his trail. Oh, the cunning rascal!
This is how he gave me the slip the other night."
The dog had suddenly turned out of the main road into a
grass-grown lane. Half a mile farther this opened into another
broad road, and the trail turned hard to the right in the
direction of the town, which we had just quitted. The road took
a sweep to the south of the town and continued in the opposite
direction to that in which we started.
"This DETOUR has been entirely for our benefit, then?" said
Holmes. "No wonder that my inquiries among those villages led
to nothing. The doctor has certainly played the game for all
it is worth, and one would like to know the reason for such
elaborate deception. This should be the village of Trumpington
to the right of us.
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