It was evening before we reached the little town of Tavistock,which lies, like the boss of a shield, in the middle of the huge circleof Dartmoor. Two gentlemen were awaiting us in the station—theone a tall, fair man with lion-like hair and beard and curiouslypenetrating light blue eyes; the other a small, alert person, veryneat and dapper, in a frock-coat and gaiters, with trim little sidewhiskersand an eye-glass. The latter was Colonel Ross, the wellknownsportsman; the other, Inspector Gregory, a man who wasrapidly making his name in the English detective service.
“I am delighted that you have come down, Mr. Holmes,” saidthe colonel. “The Inspector here has done all that could possiblybe suggested, but I wish to leave no stone unturned in trying toavenge poor Straker and in recovering my horse.”
“Have there been any fresh developments?” asked Holmes.
“I am sorry to say that we have made very little progress,” saidthe Inspector. “We have an open carriage outside, and as youwould no doubt like to see the place before the light fails, wemight talk it over as we drive.”
A minute later we were all seated in a comfortable landau, andwere rattling through the quaint old Devonshire city. InspectorGregory was full of his case, and poured out a stream of remarks,while Holmes threw in an occasional question or interjection.
Colonel Ross leaned back with his arms folded and his hat tiltedover his eyes, while I listened with interest to the dialogue of thetwo detectives. Gregory was formulating his theory, which wasalmost exactly what Holmes had foretold in the train.
“The net is drawn pretty close round Fitzroy Simpson,” heremarked, “and I believe myself that he is our man. At the sametime I recognize that the evidence is purely circumstantial, andthat some new development may upset it.”
“How about Straker’s knife?”
“We have quite come to the conclusion that he wounded himselfin his fall.”
“My friend Dr. Watson made that suggestion to me as we camedown. If so, it would tell against this man Simpson.”
“Undoubtedly. He has neither a knife nor any sign of a wound.
The evidence against him is certainly very strong. He had agreat interest in the disappearance of the favorite. He lies undersuspicion of having poisoned the stable-boy, he was undoubtedlyout in the storm, he was armed with a heavy stick, and his cravatwas found in the dead man’s hand. I really think we have enoughto go before a jury.”
Holmes shook his head. “A clever counsel would tear it all torags,” said he. “Why should he take the horse out of the stable?
If he wished to injure it why could he not do it there? Has aduplicate key been found in his possession? What chemist soldhim the powdered opium? Above all, where could he, a strangerto the district, hide a horse, and such a horse as this? What is hisown explanation as to the paper which he wished the maid to giveto the stable-boy?”
“He says that it was a ten-pound note. One was found in hispurse. But your other difficulties are not so formidable as theyseem. He is not a stranger to the district. He has twice lodged atTavistock in the summer. The opium was probably brought fromLondon. The key, having served its purpose, would be hurled away.
The horse may be at the bottom of one of the pits or old minesupon the moor.”
“What does he say about the cravat?”
“He acknowledges that it is his, and declares that he had lost it.
But a new element has been introduced into the case which mayaccount for his leading the horse from the stable.”
Holmes pricked up his ears.
“We have found traces which show that a party of gypsiesencamped on Monday night within a mile of the spot where themurder took place. On Tuesday they were gone. Now, presumingthat there was some understanding between Simpson and thesegypsies, might he not have been leading the horse to them whenhe was overtaken, and may they not have him now?”
“It is certainly possible.”
“The moor is being scoured for these gypsies. I have alsoexamined every stable and out-house in Tavistock, and for a radiusof ten miles.”
“There is another training-stable quite close, I understand?”
“Yes, and that is a factor which we must certainly not neglect.
As Desborough, their horse, was second in the betting, they hadan interest in the disappearance of the favorite. Silas Brown, thetrainer, is known to have had large bets upon the event, and hewas no friend to poor Straker. We have, however, examined thestables, and there is nothing to connect him with the affair.”
“And nothing to connect this man Simpson with the interests ofthe Mapleton stables?”
“Nothing at all.”
Holmes leaned back in the carriage, and the conversationceased. A few minutes later our driver pulled up at a neat little redbrickvilla with overhanging eaves which stood by the road. Somedistance off, across a paddock, lay a long gray-tiled outbuilding. Inevery other direction the low curves of the moor, bronze-coloredfrom the fading ferns, stretched away to the sky-line, broken onlyby the steeples of Tavistock, and by a cluster of houses away tothe westward which marked the Mapleton stables. We all sprangout with the exception of Holmes, who continued to lean backwith his eyes fixed upon the sky in front of him, entirely absorbedin his own thoughts. It was only when I touched his arm that heroused himself with a violent start and stepped out of the carriage.
“Excuse me,” said he, turning to Colonel Ross, who had lookedat him in some surprise. “I was day-dreaming.” There was a gleamin his eyes and a suppressed excitement in his manner whichconvinced me, used as I was to his ways, that his hand was upon aclue, though I could not imagine where he had found it.
“Perhaps you would prefer at once to go on to the scene of thecrime, Mr. Holmes?” said Gregory.
“I think that I should prefer to stay here a little and go intoone or two questions of detail. Straker was brought back here, Ipresume?”
“Yes; he lies upstairs. The inquest is to-morrow.”
“He has been in your service some years, Colonel Ross?”
