And that was a most vague direction. I realized it as I droveback and noted how hill after hill showed traces of the ancientpeople. Barrymore’s only indication had been that the strangerlived in one of these abandoned huts, and many hundreds of themare scattered throughout the length and breadth of the moor. ButI had my own experience for a guide since it had shown me theman himself standing upon the summit of the Black Tor. That thenshould be the centre of my search. From there I should exploreevery hut upon the moor until I lighted upon the right one. If thisman were inside it I should find out from his own lips, at the pointof my revolver if necessary, who he was and why he had doggedus so long. He might slip away from us in the crowd of RegentStreet, but it would puzzle him to do so upon the lonely moor. Onthe other hand, if I should find the hut and its tenant should notbe within it I must remain there, however long the vigil, until hereturned. Holmes had missed him in London. It would indeed bea triumph for me if I could run him to earth where my master hadfailed.
Luck had been against us again and again in this inquiry, butnow at last it came to my aid. And the messenger of good fortunewas none other than Mr. Frankland, who was standing, graywhiskeredand red-faced, outside the gate of his garden, whichopened on to the highroad along which I travelled.
“Good-day, Dr. Watson,” cried he with unwonted good humour,“you must really give your horses a rest, and come in to have aglass of wine and to congratulate me.”
My feelings towards him were very far from being friendlyafter what I had heard of his treatment of his daughter, but Iwas anxious to send Perkins and the wagonette home, and theopportunity was a good one. I alighted and sent a message to SirHenry that I should walk over in time for dinner. Then I followedFrankland into his dining-room.
“It is a great day for me, sir—one of the red-letter days of mylife,” he cried with many chuckles. “I have brought off a doubleevent. I mean to teach them in these parts that law is law, andthat there is a man here who does not fear to invoke it. I haveestablished a right of way through the centre of old Middleton’spark, slap across it, sir, within a hundred yards of his own frontdoor. What do you think of that? We’ll teach these magnates thatthey cannot ride roughshod over the rights of the commoners,confound them! And I’ve closed the wood where the Fernworthyfolk used to picnic. These infernal people seem to think thatthere are no rights of property, and that they can swarm wherethey like with their papers and their bottles. Both cases decided,Dr. Watson, and both in my favour. I haven’t had such a day sinceI had Sir John Morland for trespass because he shot in his ownwarren.”
“How on earth did you do that?”
“Look it up in the books, sir. It will repay reading—Frankland v.
Morland, Court of Queen’s Bench. It cost me ￡200, but I got myverdict.”
“Did it do you any good?”
“None, sir, none. I am proud to say that I had no interest in thematter. I act entirely from a sense of public duty. I have no doubt,for example, that the Fernworthy people will burn me in effigy tonight.
I told the police last time they did it that they should stopthese disgraceful exhibitions. The County Constabulary is in ascandalous state, sir, and it has not afforded me the protection towhich I am entitled. The case of Frankland v. Regina will bring thematter before the attention of the public. I told them that theywould have occasion to regret their treatment of me, and alreadymy words have come true.”
“How so?” I asked.
The old man put on a very knowing expression.
“Because I could tell them what they are dying to know; butnothing would induce me to help the rascals in any way.”
I had been casting round for some excuse by which I could getaway from his gossip, but now I began to wish to hear more ofit. I had seen enough of the contrary nature of the old sinner tounderstand that any strong sign of interest would be the surestway to stop his confidences.
“Some poaching case, no doubt?” said I, with an indifferentmanner.
“Ha, ha, my boy, a very much more important matter than that!
What about the convict on the moor?”
I started. “You don’t mean that you know where he is?” said I.
“I may not know exactly where he is, but I am quite sure thatI could help the police to lay their hands on him. Has it neverstruck you that the way to catch that man was to find out wherehe got his food and so trace it to him?”
He certainly seemed to be getting uncomfortably near the truth.
“No doubt,” said I; “but how do you know that he is anywhereupon the moor?”
“I know it because I have seen with my own eyes the messengerwho takes him his food.”
My heart sank for Barrymore. It was a serious thing to be in thepower of this spiteful old busybody. But his next remark took aweight from my mind.
“You’ll be surprised to hear that his food is taken to him by achild. I see him every day through my telescope upon the roof. Hepasses along the same path at the same hour, and to whom shouldhe be going except to the convict?”
Here was luck indeed! And yet I suppressed all appearanceof interest. A child! Barrymore had said that our unknown wassupplied by a boy. It was on his track, and not upon the convict’s,that Frankland had stumbled. If I could get his knowledge it mightsave me a long and weary hunt. But incredulity and indifferencewere evidently my strongest cards.
“I should say that it was much more likely that it was the son ofone of the moorland shepherds taking out his father’s dinner.”
The least appearance of opposition struck fire out of the oldautocrat. His eyes looked malignantly at me, and his gray whiskersbristled like those of an angry cat.
“Indeed, sir!” said he, pointing out over the wide-stretchingmoor. “Do you see that Black Tor over yonder? Well, do you seethe low hill beyond with the thornbush upon it? It is the stoniestpart of the whole moor. Is that a place where a shepherd wouldbe likely to take his station? Your suggestion, sir, is a most absurdone.”
