something in the trainer's ear. He started violently and flushed to the temples.
"It's a lie!" he shouted. "An infernal lie!"
"Very good! Shall we argue about it here in public, or talk it over in your parlour?"
"Oh, come in if you wish to."
Holmes smiled. "I shall not keep you more than a few minutes, Watson," he said. "Now, Mr. Brown, I am quite at your disposal."
It was quite twenty minutes, and the reds had all faded into greys before Holmes and the trainer reappeared. Never have I seen such a change as had been brought about in Silas Brown in that short time. His face was ashy pale, beads of perspiration shone upon his brow, and his hands shook until the hunting-crop wagged like a branch in the wind. His bullying, overbearing manner was all gone too, and he cringed along at my companion's side like a dog with its master.
"Your instructions will be done. It shall be done," said he.
"There must be no mistake," said Holmes, looking round at him. The other winced as he read the menace in his eyes.
"Oh, no, there shall be no mistake. It shall be there. Should I change it first or not?"
Holmes though a little and then burst out laughing. "No, don't," said he. "I shall write to you about it. No tricks now or—"
"Oh, you can trust me, you can trust me!"
"You must see to it on the day as if it were your own."
"You can rely upon me."
"Yes, I think I can. Well, you shall hear from me to-morrow." He turned upon his heel, disregarding the trembling hand which the other held out to him, and we set off for King's Pyland.
"A more perfect compound of the bully, coward and sneak than Master Silas Brown I have seldom met with," remarked Holmes, as we trudged along together.
"He has the horse, then?"
"He tried to bluster out of it, but I described to him so exactly what his actions had been upon that morning, that he is convinced that I was watching him. Of course, you observed the peculiarly square toes in the impressions, and that his own boots exactly corresponded to them. Again, of course, no subordinate would have dared to have done such a thing. I described to him how when, according to his custom, he was the first down, he perceived a strange horse wandering over the moor; how he went out to it, and his astonishment at recognizing from the white forehead which has given the favourite its name that chance had put in his power the only horse which could beat the one upon which he had put his money. Then I described how his first impulse had been to lead him back to King's Pyland, and how the devil had shown him how he could hide the horse until the race was over, and how he had led it back and concealed it at Mapleton. When I told him every detail he gave it up, and thought only of saving his own skin."
"But his stables had been searched."
"Oh, an old horse-faker like him has many a dodge."
"But are you not afraid to leave the horse in his power now, since he has every interest in injuring it?"
"My dear fellow, he will guard it as the apple of his eye. He knows that his only hope of mercy is to produce it safe."
"Colonel Ross did not impress me as a man who would be likely to show much mercy in any case."
"The matter does not rest with Colonel Ross. I follow my own methods, and tell as much or as little as I choose. That is the advantage of being unofficial. I don't know whether you observed it, Watson, but the Colonel's manner has been just a trifle cavalier to me. I am inclined now to have a little amusement at his expense. Say nothing to him about the horse."
"Certainly not, without your permission."
"And, of course, this is all quite a minor case compared with the question of who killed John Straker."
"And you will devote yourself to that?"
"On the contrary, we both go back to London by the night train."
I was thunderstruck by my friend's words. We had only been a few hours in Devonshire, and that he should give up an investigation which he had begun so brilliantly was quite incomprehensible to me. Not a word more could I draw from him until we were back at the trainer's house. The Colonel and the Inspector were awaiting us in the parlour.
"My friend and I return to town by the midnight express," said Holmes. "We have had a charming little breath of your beautiful Dartmoor air."
The Inspector opened his eyes, and the Colonel's lips curled in a sneer.
"So you despair of arresting the murderer of poor Straker," said he.
Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "There are certainly grave difficulties in the way," said he. "I have every hope, however, that
