第32章 The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist(4)

Mr.Sherlock Holmes listened with attention to the long report which I was able to present to him that evening, but it did not elicit that word of curt praise which I had hoped for and should have valued.On the contrary, his austere face was even more severe than usual as he commented upon the things that I had done and the things that I had not.

"Your hiding-place, my dear Watson, was very faulty.You should have been behind the hedge; then you would have had a close view of this interesting person.As it is you were some hundreds of yards away, and can tell me even less than Miss Smith.

She thinks she does not know the man; I am convinced she does.

Why, otherwise, should he be so desperately anxious that she should not get so near him as to see his features? You describe him as bending over the handle-bar.Concealment again, you see.

You really have done remarkably badly.He returns to the house and you want to find out who he is.You come to a London house-agent!""What should I have done?" I cried, with some heat.

"Gone to the nearest public-house.That is the centre of country gossip.They would have told you every name, from the master to the scullery-maid.Williamson! It conveys nothing to my mind.If he is an elderly man he is not this active cyclist who sprints away from that athletic young lady's pursuit.What have we gained by your expedition? The knowledge that the girl's story is true.I never doubted it.That there is a connection between the cyclist and the Hall.I never doubted that either.That the Hall is tenanted by Williamson.

Who's the better for that? Well, well, my dear sir, don't look so depressed.We can do little more until next Saturday, and in the meantime I may make one or two inquiries myself."Next morning we had a note from Miss Smith, recounting shortly and accurately the very incidents which I had seen, but the pith of the letter lay in the postscript:--"I am sure that you will respect my confidence, Mr.Holmes, when I tell you that my place here has become difficult owing to the fact that my employer has proposed marriage to me.I am convinced that his feelings are most deep and most honourable.

At the same time my promise is, of course, given.He took my refusal very seriously, but also very gently.You can understand, however, that the situation is a little strained.""Our young friend seems to be getting into deep waters,"said Holmes, thoughtfully, as he finished the letter.

"The case certainly presents more features of interest and more possibility of development than I had originally thought.

I should be none the worse for a quiet, peaceful day in the country, and I am inclined to run down this afternoon and test one or two theories which I have formed."Holmes's quiet day in the country had a singular termination, for he arrived at Baker Street late in the evening with a cut lip and a discoloured lump upon his forehead, besides a general air of dissipation which would have made his own person the fitting object of a Scotland Yard investigation.He was immensely tickled by his own adventures, and laughed heartily as he recounted them.

"I get so little active exercise that it is always a treat,"said he."You are aware that I have some proficiency in the good old British sport of boxing.Occasionally it is of service.To-day, for example, I should have come to very ignominious grief without it."I begged him to tell me what had occurred.

"I found that country pub which I had already recommended to your notice, and there I made my discreet inquiries.I was in the bar, and a garrulous landlord was giving me all that Iwanted.Williamson is a white-bearded man, and he lives alone with a small staff of servants at the Hall.There is some rumour that he is or has been a clergyman; but one or two incidents of his short residence at the Hall struck me as peculiarly unecclesiastical.I have already made some inquiries at a clerical agency, and they tell me that there WAS a man of that name in orders whose career has been a singularly dark one.

The landlord further informed me that there are usually week-end visitors -- `a warm lot, sir' -- at the Hall, and especially one gentleman with a red moustache, Mr.Woodley by name, who was always there.We had got as far as this when who should walk in but the gentleman himself, who had been drinking his beer in the tap-room and had heard the whole conversation.Who was I?

What did I want? What did I mean by asking questions? He had a fine flow of language, and his adjectives were very vigorous.

He ended a string of abuse by a vicious back-hander which I failed to entirely avoid.The next few minutes were delicious.It was a straight left against a slogging ruffian.I emerged as you see me.Mr.Woodley went home in a cart.So ended my country trip, and it must be confessed that, however enjoyable, my day on the Surrey border has not been much more profitable than your own."The Thursday brought us another letter from our client.

"You will not be surprised, Mr.Holmes," said she, "to hear that I am leaving Mr.Carruthers's employment.Even the high pay cannot reconcile me to the discomforts of my situation.

On Saturday I come up to town and I do not intend to return.

Mr.Carruthers has got a trap, and so the dangers of the lonely road, if there ever were any dangers, are now over.

"As to the special cause of my leaving, it is not merely the strained situation with Mr.Carruthers, but it is the reappearance of that odious man, Mr.Woodley.He was always hideous, but he looks more awful than ever now, for he appears to have had an accident and he is much disfigured.I saw him out of the window, but I am glad to say I did not meet him.