Silver Blaze

Arthur Conan Doyle

“I am afraid, Watson, that I shall have to go,” said Holmes, as we sat down together to our breakfast one morning.

“Go! Where to?”

“To Dartmoor; to King's Pyland.”

I was not surprised. Indeed, my only wonder was that he had not already been mixed up in this extraordinary case, which was the one topic of conversation through the length and breadth of England. For a whole day my companion had rambled² about the room with his chin upon his chest and his brows knitted, charging and recharging his pipe with the strongest black tobacco, and absolutely deaf to any of my questions or remarks. Fresh editions of every paper had been sent up by our news agent, only to be glanced over and tossed down into a corner. Yet, silent as he was, I knew perfectly³ well what it was over which he was brooding. There was but one problem before the public which could challenge his powers of analysis, and that was the singular disappearance⁴ of the favorite for the Wessex Cup, and the tragic⁵ murder of its trainer. When, therefore, he suddenly announced his intention of setting out for the scene of the drama it was only what I had both expected and hoped for.

“I should be most happy to go down with you if I should not be in the way,” said I.

“My dear Watson, you would confer a great favour upon me by coming. And I think that your time will not be misspent, for there are points about the case which promise to make it an absolutely unique one. We have, I think, just time to catch our train at Paddington, and I will go further into the matter upon our journey. You would oblige me by bringing with you your very excellent field-glass.”

And so it happened that an hour or so later I found myself in the corner of a first-class carriage flying along en route for Exeter, while Sherlock Holmes, with his sharp, eager face framed in his ear-flapped travelling-cap, dipped rapidly into the bundle of fresh papers which he had procured⁶ at Paddington. We had left Reading far behind us before he thrust the last one of them under the seat, and offered me his cigar-case.

“We are going well,” said he, looking out the window and glancing at his watch. “Our rate at present is fifty-three and a half miles an hour.”

“I have not observed the quarter-mile posts,” said I.

“Nor have I. But the telegraph posts upon this line are sixty yards apart, and the calculation is a simple one. I presume that you have looked into this matter of the murder of John Straker and the disappearance of Silver Blaze?”

“I have seen what the Telegraph and the Chronicle have to say.”

“It is one of those cases where the art of the reasoner should be used rather for the sifting⁷ of details than for the acquiring of fresh evidence. The tragedy has been so uncommon⁸, so complete and of such personal importance to so many people, that we are suffering from a plethora⁹ of surmise¹⁰, conjecture¹¹, and hypothesis. The difficulty is to detach the framework of fact—of absolute undeniable fact—from the embellishments of theorists and reporters. Then, having established ourselves upon this sound basis, it is our duty to see what inferences may be drawn¹² and what are the special points upon which the whole mystery turns. On Tuesday evening I received telegrams from both Colonel Ross, the owner of the horse, and from Inspector¹³ Gregory, who is looking after the case, inviting¹⁴ my cooperation.

“Tuesday evening!” I exclaimed. “And this is Thursday morning. Why didn't you go down yesterday?”

“Because I made a blunder, my dear Watson—which is, I am afraid, a more common occurrence than any one would think who only knew me through your memoirs¹⁵. The fact is that I could not believe it possible that the most remarkable¹⁶ horse in England could long remain concealed¹⁷, especially in so sparsely¹⁸ inhabited a place as the north of Dartmoor. From hour to hour yesterday I expected to hear that he had been found, and that his abductor was the murderer of John Straker. When, however, another morning had come, and I found that beyond the arrest of young Fitzroy Simpson nothing had been done, I felt that it was time for me to take action. Yet in some ways I feel that yesterday has not been wasted.”

“You have formed a theory, then?”

“At least I have got a grip of the essential facts of the case. I shall enumerate¹⁹ them to you, for nothing clears up a case so much as stating it to another person, and I can hardly expect your co-operation if I do not show you the position from which we start.”

I lay back against the cushions, puffing²⁰ at my cigar, while Holmes, leaning forward, with his long, thin forefinger²¹ checking off the points upon the palm of his left hand, gave me a sketch²² of the events which had led to our journey.

“Silver Blaze,” said he, “is from the Somomy stock, and holds as brilliant a record as his famous ancestor. He is now in his fifth year, and has brought in turn each of the prizes of the turf to Colonel Ross, his fortunate owner. Up to the time of the catastrophe²³ he was the first favorite for the Wessex Cup, the betting being three to one on him. He has always, however, been a prime favorite with the racing²⁵ public, and has never yet disappointed them, so that even at those odds²⁷ enormous sums of money have been laid upon him. It is obvious, therefore, that there were many people who had the strongest interest in preventing Silver Blaze from being there at the fall of the flag next Tuesday.

“The fact was, of course, appreciated at King's Pyland, where the Colonel's training-stable is situated²⁸. Every precaution was taken to guard the favorite. The trainer, John Straker, is a retired²⁹ jockey who rode in Colonel Ross's colors before he became too heavy for the weighing-chair. He has served the Colonel for five years as jockey and for seven as trainer, and has always shown himself to be a zealous³⁰ and honest servant. Under him were three lads; for the establishment was a small one, containing only four horses in all. One of these lads sat up each night in the stable, while the others slept in the loft³¹. All three bore excellent characters. John Straker, who is a married man, lived in a small villa³² about two hundred yards from the stables. He has no children, keeps one maid-servant, and is comfortably off. The country round is very lonely, but about half a mile to the north there is a small cluster of villas³³ which have been built by a Tavistock contractor³⁴ for the use of invalids³⁵ and others who may wish to enjoy the pure Dartmoor air. Tavistock itself lies two miles to the west, while across the moor¹, also about two miles distant, is the larger training establishment of Mapleton, which belongs to Lord Backwater, and is managed by Silas Brown. In every other direction the moor is a complete wilderness³⁶, inhabited only by a few roaming gypsies. Such was the general situation last Monday night when the catastrophe occurred.

“On that evening the horses had been exercised and watered as usual, and the stables were locked up at nine o'clock. Two of the lads walked up to the trainer's house, where they had supper in the kitchen, while the third, Ned Hunter, remained on guard. At a few minutes after nine the maid, Edith Baxter, carried down to the stables his supper, which consisted of a dish of curried³⁷ mutton. She took no liquid, as there was a water-tap in the stables, and it was the rule that the lad on duty should drink nothing else. The maid carried a lantern with her, as it was very dark and the path ran across the open moor.

“Edith Baxter was within thirty yards of the stables, when a man appeared out of the darkness and called to her to stop. As he stepped into the circle of yellow light thrown by the lantern she saw that he was a person of gentlemanly bearing, dressed in a gray suit of tweeds, with a cloth cap. He wore gaiters, and carried a heavy stick with a knob to it. She was most impressed, however, by the extreme pallor of his face and by the nervousness of his manner. His age, she thought, would be rather over thirty than under it.

“‘Can you tell me where I am?’ he asked. ‘I had almost made up my mind to sleep on the moor, when I saw the light of your lantern.’

“‘You are close to the King's Pyland training-stables,’ said she.

“‘Oh, indeed! What a stroke of luck!’ he cried. ‘I understand that a stable-boy sleeps there alone every night. Perhaps that is his supper which you are carrying to him. Now I am sure that you would not be too proud to earn the price of a new dress, would you?’ He took a piece of white paper folded up out of his waistcoat pocket. ‘See that the boy has this to-night, and you shall have the prettiest frock that money can buy.’

“She was frightened by the earnestness of his manner, and ran past him to the window through which she was accustomed to hand the meals. It was already opened, and Hunter was seated at the small table inside. She had begun to tell him of what had happened, when the stranger came up again.

“‘Good-evening,’ said he, looking through the window. ‘I wanted to have a word with you.’ The girl has sworn that as he spoke³⁸ she noticed the corner of the little paper packet protruding³⁹ from his closed hand.

“‘What business have you here?’ asked the lad.

“‘It's business that may put something into your pocket,’ said the other. ‘You've two horses in for the Wessex Cup—Silver Blaze and Bayard. Let me have the straight tip and you won't be a loser. Is it a fact that at the weights Bayard could give the other a hundred yards in five furlongs, and that the stable have put their money on him?’

“‘So, you're one of those damned touts⁴⁰!’ cried the lad. ‘I'll show you how we serve them in King's Pyland.’ He sprang up and rushed across the stable to unloose the dog. The girl fled away to the house, but as she ran she looked back and saw that the stranger was leaning through the window. A minute later, however, when Hunter rushed out with the hound he was gone, and though he ran all round the buildings he failed to find any trace of him.”

“One moment,” I asked. “Did the stable-boy, when he ran out with the dog, leave the door unlocked behind him?”

“Excellent, Watson, excellent!” murmured my companion. “The importance of the point struck me so forcibly that I sent a special wire to Dartmoor yesterday to clear the matter up. The boy locked the door before he left it. The window, I may add, was not large enough for a man to get through.

“Hunter waited until his fellow-grooms had returned, when he sent a message to the trainer and told him what had occurred. Straker was excited at hearing the account, although he does not seem to have quite realized its true significance. It left him, however, vaguely⁴² uneasy, and Mrs. Straker, waking at one in the morning, found that he was dressing⁴³. In reply to her inquiries⁴⁴, he said that he could not sleep on account of his anxiety about the horses, and that he intended to walk down to the stables to see that all was well. She begged him to remain at home, as she could hear the rain pattering against the window, but in spite of her entreaties⁴⁵ he pulled on his large mackintosh and left the house.

“Mrs. Straker awoke at seven in the morning, to find that her husband had not yet returned. She dressed herself hastily, called the maid, and set off for the stables. The door was open; inside, huddled⁴⁶ together upon a chair, Hunter was sunk in a state of absolute stupor⁴⁷, the favorite's stall was empty, and there were no signs of his trainer.

“The two lads who slept in the chaff-cutting loft above the harness-room were quickly aroused. They had heard nothing during the night, for they are both sound sleepers⁴⁸. Hunter was obviously under the influence of some powerful drug, and as no sense could be got out of him, he was left to sleep it off while the two lads and the two women ran out in search of the absentees. They still had hopes that the trainer had for some reason taken out the horse for early exercise, but on ascending⁴⁹ the knoll⁵⁰ near the house, from which all the neighboring moors⁵¹ were visible, they not only could see no signs of the missing favorite, but they perceived something which warned them that they were in the presence of a tragedy.

“About a quarter of a mile from the stables John Straker's overcoat was flapping from a furze-bush. Immediately beyond there was a bowl-shaped depression in the moor, and at the bottom of this was found the dead body of the unfortunate trainer. His head had been shattered by a savage⁵² blow from some heavy weapon, and he was wounded on the thigh⁵³, where there was a long, clean cut, inflicted⁵⁴ evidently by some very sharp instrument. It was clear, however, that Straker had defended himself vigorously against his assailants, for in his right hand he held a small knife, which was clotted⁵⁵ with blood up to the handle, while in his left he clasped a red and black silk cravat⁵⁶, which was recognized by the maid as having been worn on the preceding evening by the stranger who had visited the stables. Hunter, on recovering from his stupor, was also quite positive as to the ownership of the cravat. He was equally certain that the same stranger had, while standing⁵⁷ at the window, drugged his curried mutton, and so deprived the stables of their watchman. As to the missing horse, there were abundant proofs in the mud which lay at the bottom of the fatal hollow that he had been there at the time of the struggle. But from that morning he has disappeared, and although a large reward has been offered, and all the gypsies of Dartmoor are on the alert, no news has come of him. Finally, an analysis has shown that the remains⁵⁸ of his supper left by the stable-lad contain an appreciable⁵⁹ quantity of powdered opium⁶⁰, while the people at the house partook of the same dish on the same night without any ill effect.

“Those are the main facts of the case, stripped of all surmise, and stated as baldly as possible. I shall now recapitulate⁶¹ what the police have done in the matter.

“Inspector Gregory, to whom the case has been committed, is an extremely competent officer. Were he but gifted with imagination he might rise to great heights in his profession. On his arrival he promptly⁶² found and arrested the man upon whom suspicion naturally rested. There was little difficulty in finding him, for he inhabited one of those villas which I have mentioned. His name, it appears, was Fitzroy Simpson. He was a man of excellent birth and education, who had squandered⁶³ a fortune upon the turf, and who lived now by doing a little quiet and genteel book-making in the sporting clubs of London. An examination of his betting-book shows that bets to the amount of five thousand pounds had been registered by him against the favorite. On being arrested he volunteered the statement that he had come down to Dartmoor in the hope of getting some information about the King's Pyland horses, and also about Desborough, the second favorite, which was in charge of Silas Brown at the Mapleton stables. He did not attempt to deny that he had acted as described upon the evening before, but declared that he had no sinister⁶⁴ designs, and had simply wished to obtain first-hand information. When confronted with his cravat, he turned very pale, and was utterly⁶⁵ unable to account for its presence in the hand of the murdered man. His wet clothing showed that he had been out in the storm of the night before, and his stick, which was a Penang-lawyer weighted with lead, was just such a weapon as might, by repeated blows, have inflicted the terrible injuries to which the trainer had succumbed⁶⁶. On the other hand, there was no wound upon his person, while the state of Straker's knife would show that one at least of his assailants must bear his mark upon him. There you have it all in a nutshell, Watson, and if you can give me any light I shall be infinitely⁶⁷ obliged to you.”

I had listened with the greatest interest to the statement which Holmes, with characteristic clearness, had laid before me. Though most of the facts were familiar to me, I had not sufficiently⁶⁸ appreciated their relative importance, nor their connection to each other.

“Is in not possible,” I suggested, “that the incised wound upon Straker may have been caused by his own knife in the convulsive struggles which follow any brain injury?”

“It is more than possible; it is probable,” said Holmes. “In that case one of the main points in favor of the accused disappears.”

“And yet,” said I, “even now I fail to understand what the theory of the police can be.”

“I am afraid that whatever theory we state has very grave objections to it,” returned my companion. “The police imagine, I take it, that this Fitzroy Simpson, having drugged the lad, and having in some way obtained a duplicate key, opened the stable door and took out the horse, with the intention, apparently⁶⁹, of kidnapping him altogether. His bridle⁷⁰ is missing, so that Simpson must have put this on. Then, having left the door open behind him, he was leading the horse away over the moor, when he was either met or overtaken by the trainer. A row naturally ensued. Simpson beat out the trainer's brains with his heavy stick without receiving any injury from the small knife which Straker used in self-defence, and then the thief either led the horse on to some secret hiding-place, or else it may have bolted during the struggle, and be now wandering out on the moors. That is the case as it appears to the police, and improbable as it is, all other explanations are more improbable still. However, I shall very quickly test the matter when I am once upon the spot, and until then I cannot really see how we can get much further than our present position.”

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 circle of Dartmoor. Two gentlemen were awaiting us in the station—the one a tall, fair man with lion-like hair and beard and curiously⁷¹ penetrating⁷² light blue eyes; the other a small, alert person, very neat and dapper, in a frock-coat and gaiters, with trim little side-whiskers and an eye-glass. The latter was Colonel Ross, the well-known sportsman; the other, Inspector Gregory, a man who was rapidly making his name in the English detective service.

“I am delighted that you have come down, Mr. Holmes,” said the Colonel. “The Inspector here has done all that could possibly be suggested, but I wish to leave no stone unturned in trying to avenge⁷³ 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,” said the Inspector. “We have an open carriage outside, and as you would no doubt like to see the place before the light fails, we might talk it over as we drive.”

A minute later we were all seated in a comfortable landau, and were rattling⁷⁴ through the quaint⁷⁵ old Devonshire city. Inspector Gregory 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 tilted⁷⁶ over his eyes, while I listened with interest to the dialogue of the two detectives. Gregory was formulating⁷⁷ his theory, which was almost exactly what Holmes had foretold⁷⁸ in the train.

“The net is drawn pretty close round Fitzroy Simpson,” he remarked, “and I believe myself that he is our man. At the same time I recognize that the evidence is purely⁷⁹ circumstantial, and that some new development may upset it.”

“How about Straker's knife?”

“We have quite come to the conclusion that he wounded himself in his fall.”

“My friend Dr. Watson made that suggestion to me as we came down. If so, it would tell against this man Simpson.”

“Undoubtedly⁸⁰. He has neither a knife nor any sign of a wound. The evidence against him is certainly very strong. He had a great interest in the disappearance of the favorite. He lies under suspicion of having poisoned the stable-boy, he was undoubtedly out in the storm, he was armed with a heavy stick, and his cravat was found in the dead man's hand. I really think we have enough to go before a jury.”

Holmes shook his head. “A clever counsel would tear it all to rags,” 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 a duplicate key been found in his possession? What chemist sold him the powdered opium? Above all, where could he, a stranger to the district, hide a horse, and such a horse as this? What is his own explanation as to the paper which he wished the maid to give to the stable-boy?”

“He says that it was a ten-pound note. One was found in his purse. But your other difficulties are not so formidable as they seem. He is not a stranger to the district. He has twice lodged⁸¹ at Tavistock in the summer. The opium was probably brought from London. The key, having served its purpose, would be hurled⁸² away. The horse may be at the bottom of one of the pits or old mines upon 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 may account for his leading the horse from the stable.”

Holmes pricked⁸³ up his ears.

“We have found traces which show that a party of gypsies encamped on Monday night within a mile of the spot where the murder took place. On Tuesday they were gone. Now, presuming that there was some understanding between Simpson and these gypsies, might he not have been leading the horse to them when he was overtaken, and may they not have him now?”

“It is certainly possible.”

“The moor is being scoured⁸⁵ for these gypsies. I have also examined every stable and out-house in Tavistock, and for a radius⁸⁶ of 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 had an interest in the disappearance of the favorite. Silas Brown, the trainer, is known to have had large bets upon the event, and he was no friend to poor Straker. We have, however, examined the stables, and there is nothing to connect him with the affair.”

“And nothing to connect this man Simpson with the interests of the Mapleton stables?”

“Nothing at all.”

Holmes leaned back in the carriage, and the conversation ceased. A few minutes later our driver pulled up at a neat little red-brick villa with overhanging eaves which stood by the road. Some distance off, across a paddock, lay a long gray-tiled out-building. In every other direction the low curves of the moor, bronze-colored from the fading ferns, stretched away to the sky-line, broken only by the steeples of Tavistock, and by a cluster of houses away to the westward⁸⁷ which marked the Mapleton stables. We all sprang out with the exception of Holmes, who continued to lean back with his eyes fixed⁸⁸ upon the sky in front of him, entirely⁸⁹ absorbed in his own thoughts. It was only when I touched his arm that he roused himself with a violent start and stepped out of the carriage.

“Excuse me,” said he, turning to Colonel Ross, who had looked at him in some surprise. “I was day-dreaming.” There was a gleam in his eyes and a suppressed excitement in his manner which convinced me, used as I was to his ways, that his hand was upon a clue, though I could not imagine where he had found it.

“Perhaps you would prefer at once to go on to the scene of the crime, Mr. Holmes?” said Gregory.

“I think that I should prefer to stay here a little and go into one or two questions of detail. Straker was brought back here, I presume?”

“Yes; he lies upstairs. The inquest is to-morrow.”

“He has been in your service some years, Colonel Ross?”

“I have always found him an excellent servant.”

“I presume that you made an inventory⁹⁰ of what he had in this pockets at the time of his death, Inspector?”

“I have the things themselves in the sitting-room⁹¹, if you would care to see them.”

“I should be very glad.” We all filed into the front room and sat round the central table while the Inspector unlocked a square tin box and laid a small heap of things before us. There was a box of vestas, two inches of tallow candle, an A D P brier-root pipe, a pouch⁹² of seal-skin with half an ounce of long-cut Cavendish, a silver watch with a gold chain, five sovereigns in gold, an aluminum⁹³ pencil-case, a few papers, and an ivory-handled knife with a very delicate, inflexible⁹⁴ blade marked Weiss & Co., London.

“This is a very singular knife,” said Holmes, lifting it up and examining it minutely. “I presume, as I see blood-stains upon it, that it is the one which was found in the dead man's grasp. Watson, this knife is surely in your line?”

“It is what we call a cataract⁹⁵ knife,” said I.

“I thought so. A very delicate blade devised for very delicate work. A strange thing for a man to carry with him upon a rough expedition, especially as it would not shut in his pocket.”

“The tip was guarded by a disk of cork⁹⁶ which we found beside his body,” said the Inspector. “His wife tells us that the knife had lain upon the dressing-table, and that he had picked it up as he left the room. It was a poor weapon, but perhaps the best that he could lay his hands on at the moment.”

“Very possible. How about these papers?”

“Three of them are receipted hay-dealers' accounts. One of them is a letter of instructions from Colonel Ross. This other is a milliner's account for thirty-seven pounds fifteen made out by Madame Lesurier, of Bond Street, to William Derbyshire. Mrs. Straker tells us that Derbyshire was a friend of her husband's and that occasionally his letters were addressed here.”

“Madam Derbyshire had somewhat expensive tastes,” remarked Holmes, glancing down the account. “Twenty-two guineas is rather heavy for a single costume. However there appears to be nothing more to learn, and we may now go down to the scene of the crime.”

As we emerged from the sitting-room a woman, who had been waiting in the passage, took a step forward and laid her hand upon the Inspector's sleeve. Her face was haggard and thin and eager, stamped with the print of a recent horror.

“Have you got them? Have you found them?” she panted.

“No, Mrs. Straker. But Mr. Holmes here has come from London to help us, and we shall do all that is possible.”

“Surely I met you in Plymouth at a garden-party some little time ago, Mrs. Straker?” said Holmes.

“No, sir; you are mistaken.”

“Dear me! Why, I could have sworn to it. You wore a costume of dove-colored silk with ostrich-feather trimming.”

“I never had such a dress, sir,” answered the lady.

“Ah, that quite settles it,” said Holmes. And with an apology he followed the Inspector outside. A short walk across the moor took us to the hollow in which the body had been found. At the brink⁹⁷ of it was the furze-bush upon which the coat had been hung.

“There was no wind that night, I understand,” said Holmes.

“None; but very heavy rain.”

“In that case the overcoat was not blown against the furze-bush, but placed there.”

“Yes, it was laid across the bush.”

“You fill me with interest, I perceive that the ground has been trampled⁹⁸ up a good deal. No doubt many feet have been here since Monday night.”

“A piece of matting has been laid here at the side, and we have all stood upon that.”

“Excellent.”

“In this bag I have one of the boots which Straker wore, one of Fitzroy Simpson's shoes, and a cast horseshoe of Silver Blaze.”

“My dear Inspector, you surpass yourself!” Holmes took the bag, and, descending⁹⁹ into the hollow, he pushed the matting into a more central position. Then stretching himself upon his face and leaning his chin upon his hands, he made a careful study of the trampled mud in front of him. “Hullo!” said he, suddenly. “What's this?” It was a wax vesta half burned, which was so coated with mud that it looked at first like a little chip of wood.

“I cannot think how I came to overlook it,” said the Inspector, with an expression of annoyance¹⁰⁰.

“It was invisible, buried in the mud. I only saw it because I was looking for it.”

“What! You expected to find it?”

“I thought it not unlikely.”

He took the boots from the bag, and compared the impressions of each of them with marks upon the ground. Then he clambered up to the rim²⁴ of the hollow, and crawled about among the ferns and bushes.

“I am afraid that there are no more tracks,” said the Inspector. “I have examined the ground very carefully for a hundred yards in each direction.”

“Indeed!” said Holmes, rising. “I should not have the impertinence to do it again after what you say. But I should like to take a little walk over the moor before it grows dark, that I may know my ground to-morrow, and I think that I shall put this horseshoe into my pocket for luck.”

Colonel Ross, who had shown some signs of impatience¹⁰¹ at my companion's quiet and systematic¹⁰² method of work, glanced at his watch. “I wish you would come back with me, Inspector,” said he. “There are several points on which I should like your advice, and especially as to whether we do not owe it to the public to remove our horse's name from the entries for the Cup.”

“Certainly not,” cried Holmes, with decision. “I should let the name stand.”

The Colonel bowed. “I am very glad to have had your opinion, sir,” said he. “You will find us at poor Straker's house when you have finished your walk, and we can drive together into Tavistock.”

He turned back with the Inspector, while Holmes and I walked slowly across the moor. The sun was beginning to sink behind the stables of Mapleton, and the long, sloping plain in front of us was tinged¹⁰³ with gold, deepening into rich, ruddy browns where the faded ferns and brambles caught the evening light. But the glories of the landscape were all wasted upon my companion, who was sunk in the deepest thought.

“It's this way, Watson,” said he at last. “We may leave the question of who killed John Straker for the instant, and confine ourselves to finding out what has become of the horse. Now, supposing that he broke away during or after the tragedy, where could he have gone to? The horse is a very gregarious¹⁰⁴ creature. If left to himself his instincts would have been either to return to King's Pyland or go over to Mapleton. Why should he run wild upon the moor? He would surely have been seen by now. And why should gypsies kidnap him? These people always clear out when they hear of trouble, for they do not wish to be pestered¹⁰⁵ by the police. They could not hope to sell such a horse. They would run a great risk and gain nothing by taking him. Surely that is clear.”

“Where is he, then?”

“I have already said that he must have gone to King's Pyland or to Mapleton. He is not at King's Pyland. Therefore he is at Mapleton. Let us take that as a working hypothesis and see what it leads us to. This part of the moor, as the Inspector remarked, is very hard and dry. But it falls away towards Mapleton, and you can see from here that there is a long hollow over yonder, which must have been very wet on Monday night. If our supposition is correct, then the horse must have crossed that, and there is the point where we should look for his tracks.”

We had been walking briskly during this conversation, and a few more minutes brought us to the hollow in question. At Holmes' request I walked down the bank to the right, and he to the left, but I had not taken fifty paces before I heard him give a shout, and saw him waving his hand to me. The track of a horse was plainly outlined in the soft earth in front of him, and the shoe which he took from his pocket exactly fitted the impression.

“See the value of imagination,” said Holmes. “It is the one quality which Gregory lacks. We imagined what might have happened, acted upon the supposition, and find ourselves justified¹⁰⁶. Let us proceed.”

We crossed the marshy¹⁰⁷ bottom and passed over a quarter of a mile of dry, hard turf. Again the ground sloped, and again we came on the tracks. Then we lost them for half a mile, but only to pick them up once more quite close to Mapleton. It was Holmes who saw them first, and he stood pointing with a look of triumph upon his face. A man's track was visible beside the horse's.

“The horse was alone before,” I cried.

“Quite so. It was alone before. Hullo, what is this?”

The double track turned sharp off and took the direction of King's Pyland. Holmes whistled, and we both followed along after it. His eyes were on the trail, but I happened to look a little to one side, and saw to my surprise the same tracks coming back again in the opposite direction.

“One for you, Watson,” said Holmes, when I pointed²⁶ it out. “You have saved us a long walk, which would have brought us back on our own traces. Let us follow the return track.”

We had not to go far. It ended at the paving of asphalt which led up to the gates of the Mapleton stables. As we approached, a groom⁴¹ ran out from them.

“We don't want any loiterers about here,” said he.

“I only wished to ask a question,” said Holmes, with his finger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket. “Should I be too early to see your master, Mr. Silas Brown, if I were to call at five o'clock to-morrow morning?”

“Bless you, sir, if any one is about he will be, for he is always the first stirring. But here he is, sir, to answer your questions for himself. No, sir, no; it is as much as my place is worth to let him see me touch your money. Afterwards, if you like.”

As Sherlock Holmes replaced the half-crown which he had drawn from his pocket, a fierce-looking elderly man strode out from the gate with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand.

“What's this, Dawson!” he cried. “No gossiping! Go about your business! And you, what the devil do you want here?”

“Ten minutes' talk with you, my good sir,” said Holmes in the sweetest of voices.

“I've no time to talk to every gadabout. We want no stranger here. Be off, or you may find a dog at your heels.”

Holmes leaned forward and whispered 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 parlor¹⁰⁸?”

“Oh, come in if you wish to.”

Holmes smiled. “I shall not keep you more than a few minutes, Watson,” said he. “Now, Mr. Brown, I am quite at your disposal.”

It was twenty minutes, and the reds had all faded into grays 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, beads¹⁰⁹ of perspiration¹¹⁰ shone upon his brow, and his hands shook until the hunting-crop wagged like a branch in the wind. His bullying¹¹², 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 all be done,” said he.

“There must be no mistake,” said Holmes, looking round at him. The other winced¹¹³ 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 thought 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!”

“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 bully¹¹¹, coward, and sneak¹¹⁴ than Master Silas Brown I have seldom met with,” remarked Holmes as we trudged¹¹⁵ along together.

“He has the horse, then?”

“He tried to bluster¹¹⁶ 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 do 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 astonishment¹¹⁷ at recognizing, from the white forehead which has given the favorite 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, and old horse-faker like him has many a dodge¹¹⁸.”

“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 minor¹¹⁹ point compared to 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 investigation¹²⁰ 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 parlor.

“My friend and I return to town by the night-express,” said Holmes. “We have had a charming little breath of your beautiful Dartmoor air.”

The Inspector opened his eyes, and the Colonel's lip curled in a sneer¹²¹.

“So you despair of arresting the murderer of poor Straker,” said he.

Holmes shrugged¹²³ his shoulders. “There are certainly grave difficulties in the way,” said he. “I have every hope, however, that your horse will start upon Tuesday, and I beg that you will have your jockey in readiness. Might I ask for a photograph of Mr. John Straker?”

The Inspector took one from an envelope and handed it to him.

“My dear Gregory, you anticipate all my wants. If I might ask you to wait here for an instant, I have a question which I should like to put to the maid.”

“I must say that I am rather disappointed in our London consultant,” said Colonel Ross, bluntly, as my friend left the room. “I do not see that we are any further than when he came.”

“At least you have his assurance that your horse will run,” said I.

“Yes, I have his assurance,” said the Colonel, with a shrug¹²² of his shoulders. “I should prefer to have the horse.”

I was about to make some reply in defence of my friend when he entered the room again.

“Now, gentlemen,” said he, “I am quite ready for Tavistock.”

As we stepped into the carriage one of the stable-lads held the door open for us. A sudden idea seemed to occur to Holmes, for he leaned forward and touched the lad upon the sleeve.

“You have a few sheep in the paddock,” he said. “Who attends to them?”

“I do, sir.”

“Have you noticed anything amiss with them of late?”

“Well, sir, not of much account; but three of them have gone lame¹²⁴, sir.”

I could see that Holmes was extremely pleased, for he chuckled¹²⁵ and rubbed his hands together.

“A long shot, Watson; a very long shot,” said he, pinching my arm. “Gregory, let me recommend to your attention this singular epidemic¹²⁶ among the sheep. Drive on, coachman!”

Colonel Ross still wore an expression which showed the poor opinion which he had formed of my companion's ability, but I saw by the Inspector's face that his attention had been keenly aroused.

“You consider that to be important?” he asked.

“Exceedingly so.”

“Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?”

“To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.”

“The dog did nothing in the night-time.”

“That was the curious incident,” remarked Sherlock Holmes.

Four days later Holmes and I were again in the train, bound for Winchester to see the race for the Wessex Cup. Colonel Ross met us by appointment outside the station, and we drove in his drag to the course beyond the town. His face was grave, and his manner was cold in the extreme.

“I have seen nothing of my horse,” said he.

“I suppose that you would know him when you saw him?” asked Holmes.

The Colonel was very angry. “I have been on the turf for twenty years, and never was asked such a question as that before,” said he. “A child would know Silver Blaze, with his white forehead and his mottled off-foreleg.”

“How is the betting?”

“Well, that is the curious part of it. You could have got fifteen to one yesterday, but the price has become shorter and shorter, until you can hardly get three to one now.”

“Hum!” said Holmes. “Somebody knows something, that is clear.”

As the drag drew up in the enclosure near the grand stand I glanced at the card to see the entries.

Wessex Plate [it ran] 50 sovs. each h ft with 1000 sovs. added, for four and five year olds. Second, ￡300. Third, ￡200. New course (one mile and five furlongs).

1. Mr Heath Newton's The Negro. Red cap. Cinnamon jacket.

2. Colonel Wardlaw's Pugilist. Pink cap. Blue and black jacket.

3. Lord Backwater's Desborough. Yellow cap and sleeves.

4. Colonel Ross's Silver Blaze. Black cap. Red jacket.

5. Duke of Balmoral's Iris¹²⁷. Yellow and black stripes.

6. Lord Singleford's Rasper. Purple cap. Black sleeves.

“We scratched our other one, and put all hopes on your word,” said the Colonel. “Why, what is that? Silver Blaze favorite?”

“Five to four against Silver Blaze!” roared the ring. “Five to four against Silver Blaze! Five to fifteen against Desborough! Five to four on the field!”

“There are the numbers up,” I cried. “They are all six there.”

“All six there? Then my horse is running,” cried the Colonel in great agitation¹²⁸. “But I don't see him. My colors have not passed.”

“Only five have passed. This must be he.”

As I spoke a powerful bay horse swept out from the weighting enclosure and cantered past us, bearing on its back the well-known black and red of the Colonel.

“That's not my horse,” cried the owner. “That beast has not a white hair upon its body. What is this that you have done, Mr. Holmes?”

“Well, well, let us see how he gets on,” said my friend, imperturbably¹²⁹. For a few minutes he gazed through my field-glass. “Capital! An excellent start!” he cried suddenly. “There they are, coming round the curve!”

From our drag we had a superb view as they came up the straight. The six horses were so close together that a carpet could have covered them, but half way up the yellow of the Mapleton stable showed to the front. Before they reached us, however, Desborough's bolt was shot, and the Colonel's horse, coming away with a rush, passed the post a good six lengths before its rival, the Duke of Balmoral's Iris making a bad third.

“It's my race, anyhow,” gasped¹³⁰ the Colonel, passing his hand over his eyes. “I confess that I can make neither head nor tail of it. Don't you think that you have kept up your mystery long enough, Mr. Holmes?”

“Certainly, Colonel, you shall know everything. Let us all go round and have a look at the horse together. Here he is,” he continued, as we made our way into the weighing enclosure, where only owners and their friends find admittance. “You have only to wash his face and his leg in spirits of wine, and you will find that he is the same old Silver Blaze as ever.”

“You take my breath away!”

“I found him in the hands of a faker, and took the liberty of running him just as he was sent over.”

“My dear sir, you have done wonders. The horse looks very fit and well. It never went better in its life. I owe you a thousand apologies for having doubted your ability. You have done me a great service by recovering my horse. You would do me a greater still if you could lay your hands on the murderer of John Straker.”

“I have done so,” said Holmes quietly.

The Colonel and I stared at him in amazement¹³¹. “You have got him! Where is he, then?”

“He is here.”

“Here! Where?”

“In my company at the present moment.”

The Colonel flushed angrily. “I quite recognize that I am under obligations to you, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “but I must regard what you have just said as either a very bad joke or an insult.”

Sherlock Holmes laughed. “I assure you that I have not associated you with the crime, Colonel,” said he. “The real murderer is standing immediately behind you.” He stepped past and laid his hand upon the glossy¹³² neck of the thoroughbred.

“The horse!” cried both the Colonel and myself.

“Yes, the horse. And it may lessen¹³³ his guilt¹³⁴ if I say that it was done in self-defence, and that John Straker was a man who was entirely unworthy of your confidence. But there goes the bell, and as I stand to win a little on this next race, I shall defer¹³⁵ a lengthy¹³⁶ explanation until a more fitting time.”

We had the corner of a Pullman car to ourselves that evening as we whirled back to London, and I fancy that the journey was a short one to Colonel Ross as well as to myself, as we listened to our companion's narrative¹³⁷ of the events which had occurred at the Dartmoor training-stables upon the Monday night, and the means by which he had unravelled¹³⁸ them.

“I confess,” said he, “that any theories which I had formed from the newspaper reports were entirely erroneous. And yet there were indications there, had they not been overlaid by other details which concealed their true import. I went to Devonshire with the conviction that Fitzroy Simpson was the true culprit, although, of course, I saw that the evidence against him was by no means complete. It was while I was in the carriage, just as we reached the trainer's house, that the immense significance of the curried mutton occurred to me. You may remember that I was distrait¹³⁹, and remained sitting after you had all alighted. I was marvelling¹⁴⁰ in my own mind how I could possibly have overlooked so obvious a clue.”

“I confess,” said the Colonel, “that even now I cannot see how it helps us.”

“It was the first link in my chain of reasoning. Powdered opium is by no means tasteless. The flavor is not disagreeable, but it is perceptible. Were it mixed with any ordinary dish the eater would undoubtedly detect it, and would probably eat no more. A curry¹⁴¹ was exactly the medium which would disguise this taste. By no possible supposition could this stranger, Fitzroy Simpson, have caused curry to be served in the trainer's family that night, and it is surely too monstrous¹⁴² a coincidence to suppose that he happened to come along with powdered opium upon the very night when a dish happened to be served which would disguise the flavor. That is unthinkable. Therefore Simpson becomes eliminated from the case, and our attention centers upon Straker and his wife, the only two people who could have chosen curried mutton for supper that night. The opium was added after the dish was set aside for the stable-boy, for the others had the same for supper with no ill effects. Which of them, then, had access to that dish without the maid seeing them?

“Before deciding that question I had grasped the significance of the silence of the dog, for one true inference invariably suggests others. The Simpson incident had shown me that a dog was kept in the stables, and yet, though some one had been in and had fetched out a horse, he had not barked enough to arouse the two lads in the loft. Obviously the midnight visitor was some one whom the dog knew well.

“I was already convinced, or almost convinced, that John Straker went down to the stables in the dead of the night and took out Silver Blaze. For what purpose? For a dishonest one, obviously, or why should he drug his own stable-boy? And yet I was at a loss to know why. There have been cases before now where trainers have made sure of great sums of money by laying against their own horses, through agents, and then preventing them from winning by fraud. Sometimes it is a pulling jockey. Sometimes it is some surer and subtler means. What was it here? I hoped that the contents of his pockets might help me to form a conclusion.

“And they did so. You cannot have forgotten the singular knife which was found in the dead man's hand, a knife which certainly no sane¹⁴³ man would choose for a weapon. It was, as Dr. Watson told us, a form of knife which is used for the most delicate operations known in surgery. And it was to be used for a delicate operation that night. You must know, with your wide experience of turf matters, Colonel Ross, that it is possible to make a slight nick upon the tendons of a horse's ham, and to do it subcutaneously, so as to leave absolutely no trace. A horse so treated would develop a slight lameness¹⁴⁴, which would be put down to a strain in exercise or a touch of rheumatism¹⁴⁵, but never to foul¹⁴⁶ play.”

“Villain! Scoundrel!” cried the Colonel.

“We have here the explanation of why John Straker wished to take the horse out on to the moor. So spirited a creature would have certainly roused the soundest of sleepers when it felt the prick⁸⁴ of the knife. It was absolutely necessary to do it in the open air.”

“I have been blind!” cried the Colonel. “Of course that was why he needed the candle, and struck the match.”

“Undoubtedly. But in examining his belongings¹⁴⁷ I was fortunate enough to discover not only the method of the crime, but even its motives¹⁴⁸. As a man of the world, Colonel, you know that men do not carry other people's bills about in their pockets. We have most of us quite enough to do to settle our own. I at once concluded that Straker was leading a double life, and keeping a second establishment. The nature of the bill showed that there was a lady in the case, and one who had expensive tastes. Liberal as you are with your servants, one can hardly expect that they can buy twenty-guinea walking dresses for their ladies. I questioned Mrs. Straker as to the dress without her knowing it, and having satisfied myself that it had never reached her, I made a note of the milliner's address, and felt that by calling there with Straker's photograph I could easily dispose of the mythical¹⁴⁹ Derbyshire.

“From that time on all was plain. Straker had led out the horse to a hollow where his light would be invisible. Simpson in his flight had dropped his cravat, and Straker had picked it up—with some idea, perhaps, that he might use it in securing the horse's leg. Once in the hollow, he had got behind the horse and had struck a light; but the creature frightened at the sudden glare, and with the strange instinct of animals feeling that some mischief¹⁵⁰ was intended, had lashed¹⁵¹ out, and the steel shoe had struck Straker full on the forehead. He had already, in spite of the rain, taken off his overcoat in order to do his delicate task, and so, as he fell, his knife gashed¹⁵² his thigh. Do I make it clear?”

“Wonderful!” cried the Colonel. “Wonderful! You might have been there!”

“My final shot was, I confess a very long one. It struck me that so astute¹⁵³ a man as Straker would not undertake this delicate tendon-nicking without a little practice. What could he practice on? My eyes fell upon the sheep, and I asked a question which, rather to my surprise, showed that my surmise was correct.

“When I returned to London I called upon the milliner, who had recognized Straker as an excellent customer of the name of Derbyshire, who had a very dashing wife, with a strong partiality for expensive dresses. I have no doubt that this woman had plunged¹⁵⁴ him over head and ears in debt, and so led him into this miserable¹⁵⁵ plot.”

“You have explained all but one thing,” cried the Colonel. “Where was the horse?”

“Ah, it bolted, and was cared for by one of your neighbors. We must have an amnesty in that direction, I think. This is Clapham Junction¹⁵⁶, if I am not mistaken, and we shall be in Victoria in less than ten minutes. If you care to smoke a cigar in our rooms, Colonel, I shall be happy to give you any other details which might interest you.”

 

银色马

一天早晨，我们一起用早餐，福尔摩斯说道：

“华生，恐怕我只好去一次了。”

“去一次？！上哪儿？”

“到达特穆尔，去金斯皮兰。”

我听了并不惊奇。老实说，我本来感到奇怪的是，目前在英国各地到处都在谈论着一件离奇古怪的案件，可是福尔摩斯却没有过问。他整日里紧皱双眉，低头沉思，在屋内走来走去，装上一斗又一斗的烈一性一烟叶，吸个没完，对我提出的问题和议论，完全置之不理。报刊经售人给我们送来当天的各种报纸，他也仅仅稍一过目就扔到一旁。然而，尽避他沉默不语，我完全清楚地知道，福尔摩斯正在仔细考虑着什么。当前，人们面前只有一个问题，迫切需要福尔摩斯的分析推论智能去解决，那就是韦塞克斯杯锦标赛中的名驹奇异的失踪和驯马师的惨死。所以，他突然声称，他打算出发去调查这件戏剧一性一的奇案，这不出我所料，也正中我下怀。

“要是我不妨碍你的话，我很愿和你一同去。”

“亲一爱一的华生，你能和我一同去，那我非常高兴。我想你此去决不会白白一浪一费时间的，因为这件案子有一些特点，看来它可能是极为独特的。我想，我们到帕丁顿刚好能赶上火车，在路上我再把这件案子的情况详细谈一谈。你最好能把你那个双筒望远镜带上。”

一小时以后，我们已坐在驶往埃克塞特的头等车厢里，一顶带护耳的旅行帽掩住埃尔摩斯那张轮廓分明的面孔，他正在匆匆浏览他在帕丁顿车站买到的一堆当天报纸。我们早已过了雷丁站很远，他把最后看的那张报纸塞在座位下面，拿出香烟盒来让我吸烟。

“我们行进得很快，”福尔摩斯望着窗外，看了看表说道，”现在我们每小时的车速是五十三英里半。”

“我没有注意数四分之一英里的路杆，”我说道。

“我也没注意。可是这条铁路线附近电线杆的间隔是六十码，所以计算起来很简单。我想你对于约翰-斯特雷克被害和银色白额马失踪的事，已经知道了吧。”

“我已经看到电讯和新闻报道了。”

“对这件案子，思维推理的艺术，应当用来仔细查明事实细节，而不是去寻找新的证据。这件惨案极不平凡，如此费解，并且与那么多人有切身利害关系，使我们颇费推测、猜想和假设。困难在于，需要把那些确凿的事实——无可争辩的事实与那些理论家、记者虚构粉饰之词区别开来。我们的责任是立足于可靠的根据，得出结论，并确定在当前这件案子里哪一些问题是主要的。星期二晚上，我接到马主人罗斯上校和警长格雷戈里两个人的电报，格雷戈里请我与他合作侦破这件案子。”

“星期二晚上！”我惊呼道，”今天已经是星期四早晨了。为什么你昨天不动身呢？”

“我亲一爱一的华生，这是我的过错，恐怕我会发生很多错误，而并不象那些只是通过你的回忆录知道我的人所想象的那样。事实是，我并不相信这匹英国名驹会隐藏得这么久，特别是在达特穆尔北部这样人烟稀少的地方。昨天我时时刻刻指望着能听到找到马的消息，而那个拐马的人就是杀害约翰-斯特雷克的凶手。哪知到了今天，我发现除了捉住年轻人菲茨罗伊-辛普森以外，没有任何进展。我感到是该我行动的时候了。不过，我觉得昨天的时间也并没有白白一浪一费。”

“那么说，你已经作出了分析判断。”

“至少我对这件案子的主要事实有了一些了解。现在我可以对你一一列举出来。我觉得，弄清一件案子的最好办法，就是能把它的情况对另一个人讲清楚。此外，如果我不告诉你我们现在掌握什么情况，我就很难指望得到你的帮助。”

我向后仰靠在椅背上，一抽一了一口雪茄，福尔摩斯俯身向前，用他那瘦长的食指在他左手掌上指点着，向我说明引起我们这次旅行的事件的梗概。

“银色白额马，”福尔摩斯说道，“是索莫密种，和它驰名的祖先一样，始终保持着优秀的记录。它已经是五岁口了，在赛一马场上每次都为它那幸运的主人罗斯上校赢得头奖。在这次不幸事件以前，它是韦塞克斯杯锦标赛的冠军，人们在他身上的赌注是三比一。然而它是赛一马嗜好者最一爱一的名驹，而①且从未使它的一爱一好者落空，因此，即使是这样的悬殊的赌注，①赌注三比一是指比赛或打赌时，赢时只拿对方一份，输时则给对方三份——译者注也有巨款押在它身上。所以，设法阻止银色白额马去参加下星期二的比赛，显然同许多人的切身利害息息相关。

“当然，在上校驯马厩所在地金斯皮兰，人们都知道这种事实，所以，对这匹名驹采取了各种预防措施来保护它。驯马人约翰-斯特雷克原是罗斯上校的赛一马骑师，后来因体重增加，才另换他人。斯特雷克在上校家做了五年骑师，七年驯马师，平时的表现是一个热心肠的诚实仆人。斯特雷克手下有三个小马倌。马厩不大，一共只有四骑马。一个小马倌每天晚上都住在马厩里，另外两个就睡在草料棚中。三个小伙子的品行都很好。约翰-斯特雷克已经结婚，住在离马厩二百码远近的一座小别墅里。他没有孩子，有一个女仆，生活还算舒适。那个地方很荒凉，在北边半英里以外，有几座别墅，是塔维斯托克镇的承包商建造的，专供病人疗养以及其他愿来呼吸达特穆尔新鲜空气的人住用。向西二英里以外就是塔维斯托克镇，穿过荒野，大约也有二英里远近，有一个梅普里通马厩，是属于巴克沃特勋爵的，管理人名叫赛拉斯-布朗。荒野其他方向则异常荒凉，只有少数流一浪一的吉卜赛人散居着。这件祸事发生的星期一晚上，基本情况就是这样。

“这天晚上，象平常一样，这些马匹经过驯练，刷洗，马厩在九点钟上了锁。两个小马倌到斯特雷克家去，在厨房里用过晚饭。第三个小马倌内德-亨特留下看守。九点过几分以后，女仆伊迪丝-巴克斯特把内德的晚饭送到马厩来，这是一盘咖喱羊肉。她没有带饮料，因为马厩里有自来水，按规定，看马房的人在值班时，不能喝别的饮料。因为天很黑，这条小路又穿过荒野，所以这个女仆带着一盏提灯。

“伊迪丝-巴克斯特走到离马厩不到三十码时，一个人从暗处走出来，叫她站住。在提灯的黄色灯光下，她看到这个人穿戴得象个上流社会的人，身穿一套灰色花呢衣服，头戴一顶呢帽，脚登一双带绑腿的高统靴子，手拿一根沉重的圆头手杖。然而给她印象最深的是，他的脸色过分苍白，神情紧张不安。她想，这个人的年龄恐怕要在三十岁以上。

“'你能告诉我这是什么地方吗？'他问道，'要不是看到你的灯光，我真想在荒野里过夜了。'

“'你走到金斯皮兰马厩旁边了。'女仆说。

“啊，真的！真好运气！'他叫道，'我知道每天晚上有一个小马倌独自一人睡在这里。或许这就是你给他送的晚饭吧。我相信你总不会那么骄傲，连一件新衣服的钱也不屑赚吧？'这个人从背心口袋里掏出一张叠起来的白纸片，‘务必在今天晚上把这东西送给那个孩子，那你就能得到可以买一件最漂亮的上衣的钱。'

“他这种认真的样子，使伊迪丝大为惊骇，赶忙从他身旁跑过去，奔到窗下，因为她惯于从窗口把饭递过去。窗户已经打开了，亨特坐在小桌旁边。伊迪丝刚刚开口要把发生的事告诉他，这时陌生人又走过来。

“'晚安，'陌生人从窗外向里探望着说道，'我有话同你说，'姑一娘一发誓说，在他说话时，她发现他手里攥着一张小纸片，露出一角来。

“'你到这里有什么事？'小马倌问道。

“'这件事可以使你口袋里装些东西，'陌生人说道，'你们有两骑马参加韦塞克斯杯锦标赛，一匹是银色白额马，一匹是贝阿德。你把可靠的消息透露给我，你不会吃亏的。听说在五弗隆距离赛一马中，贝阿德可以超过银色白额马一百①码，你们自己都把赌注押到贝阿德身上，这是真的吗？'

“'这么说，'你是一个该死的赛一马探子了！'这个小马倌喊道，'现在我要让你知道，在金斯皮兰我们是怎样对付这些家伙的。'他跑过去把狗放出来。这个姑一娘一赶紧奔回家去，不过她一面跑，一面向后望，她看到那个陌生人还俯身向窗内探望。可是，过了一分钟，亨特带着猎狗一同跑出来时，这个人已经走开了，尽避亨特带着狗绕着马厩转了一圈，也没有发现这个人的踪影。”

“等一等，”我问道，”小马倌带着狗跑出去时，没有把门锁上吗？”

“太好了，华生，太好了！”我的伙伴低声说道，“我认为这一点非常重要，所以昨天特意往达特穆尔发了一封电报查问这件事。小马倌在离开以前把门锁上了。我还可以补充一点，这扇窗户小得不能钻进人来。

“亨特等那两个同伙小马倌回来以后，便派人去向驯马师报信，把发生的事情告诉他。斯特雷克听到报告以后，虽不知道这里面实在的用意是什么，却非常惊慌。这件事使他心神不安，所以，斯特雷克太太在半夜一点钟醒来时，发现他正在穿衣服。斯特雷克对他妻子的询问回答说，因为他挂念这几骑马，所以一直不能入睡，他打算到马厩去看看它们是①弗隆：英国长度单位，等于八分之一英里——译者注否一切正常。斯特雷克的妻子听到雨点嘀嘀嗒嗒地打在窗上，央求他留在家里，可是他不顾妻子的请求，披上雨衣就离开了家。

“斯特雷克太太早晨七点钟一觉醒来，发觉她丈夫还没回来，急忙穿好衣服，把女仆叫醒，一同到马厩去了。只见厩门大开，亨特坐在椅子上，身一子缩成一一团一，完全昏迷不省人事，厩内的名驹不知去向，驯马师也毫无踪影。

“她们赶快把睡在草料棚里的两个小马倌叫醒，因为他们两个人睡得非常死，所以晚上什么也没听到。亨特显然受到强烈麻醉剂的影响，所以怎么也叫不醒他，两个小马倌和两个妇女只好任亨特睡在那里不管，都跑出去寻找失踪的驯马师和名驹。他们原以为驯马师出于某种原因把马拉出去进行早驯练，可是他们登上房子附近的小山丘向周围的荒野望过去，没有看到失踪的名驹的一点影子，却发现一件东西，使他们预感到发生了不幸事件。

“离马厩四分之一英里远的地方，斯特雷克的大衣在金雀花丛中曝露出来。那附近的荒野上有一个凹陷的地方，就在这里他们找到了不幸的驯马师的一尸一体。他的头颅已被砸得粉碎，分明是遭到什么沉重凶器的猛烈打击。他股上也受了伤，有一道很整齐的长伤痕，显然是被一种非常锐利的凶器割破的。斯特雷克右手握着一把小刀，血块一直凝到刀把上，很明显，他与攻击他的对手搏斗过，他的左手紧一握着一条黑红相间的丝领带，女仆认出来，那个到马厩来的陌生人头天晚上就戴着这样的领带。亨特恢复知觉以后，也证明这条领带是那个人的。他确信就是这个陌生人站在窗口的时候，在咖喱羊肉里下了麻醉药，这样就使马厩失去了看守人。至于那失去的名驹，在不幸的山谷底部泥地上留有充足的证明，说明搏斗时名驹也在场。可是那天早晨它就失踪了，尽避重价悬赏，达特穆尔所有的吉卜赛人都在注意着，却一点消息也没有。最后还有一点，经过化验证明，这个小马倌吃剩下的晚饭里含有大量麻醉剂，而在同一天晚上斯特雷克家里的人也吃同样的菜，却没有任何不一良后果。

“全案的基本事实就是这样。我讲时把一切推测都抛掉了，尽可能不加任何虚饰。现在我把警署处理这件事所采取的措施向你讲一讲。

“受命调查该案的警长格雷戈里是一个很有能力的官员。要是他的禀赋里多少再有一点儿想象力，那他准会在那门职业中得到高升。他到了出事地点，立刻找到了那个嫌疑犯，并把他逮捕起来。找到那个人并不难，因为他就住在我刚才提到的那些小别墅里。他的名字，好象叫菲茨罗伊-辛普森。他是一个出身高贵、受过很好教育的人，在赛一马场上曾挥霍过大量钱财，现在靠在伦敦体育俱乐部里作马匹预售员糊口。检查他的赌注记录本，发现他把总数五千镑的赌注押在银色白额马败北上。被捕以后，辛普森主动说明他到达特穆尔是希望探听有关金斯皮兰名驹的情况，也想了解有关第二名驹德斯巴勒的消息。德斯巴勒是由梅普里通马厩的赛拉斯-布朗照管的。对那天晚上的事，他也不否认，可是却解释说，他并没有恶意，只不过想得到第一手情报而已。在给他看那条领带以后，他脸色立时变得苍白异常，丝毫不能说明他的领带是怎样落到被害人手中的。他的衣服很湿，说明那天夜晚曾冒雨外出，而他的槟-E木手杖上端镶着铅头，如果用它反复打击，那它就完全可以作武器，使驯马师遭到如此可怕的创伤致死。可是从另一方面看，辛普森身上却没有伤痕，而斯特雷克刀上的血迹说明至少有一个袭击他的凶手身上带有刀伤，概括地说，情况就是这样。华生，如果你能给我一些启发，那我就非常感激你了。”

福尔摩斯以他那种独特的能力把情况讲述得非常清楚，使我听得入了神。尽避我已经知道了大部分情况，我还是看不出这些事情互相之间有什么关系，或这些关系有些什么重要意义。

“会不会是在搏斗时，斯特雷克大脑受了伤，然后自己把自己割伤了呢？”我提出了看法。

“可能一性一很大，十有八九是如此，”福尔摩斯说道，“这样的话，对被告有利的一个证据就不存在了。”

“还有，”我说道，“我现在还不知道警察的意见是什么。”

“我担心我们的推论正和他们的意见相反，”我的朋友又拉回话题说，”据我所知，警察们认为，菲茨罗伊-辛普森把看守马房的人麻醉倒以后，用他事先设法复制好的钥匙打开马厩大门，把银色白额马牵出来。显然，他是打算把马偷走的。马辔头没有了，所以辛普森必然把这个领带套在马嘴上，然后，就让门那么大敞着，把马牵到荒野上，在半路碰到了驯马师，或者是被驯马师追上，这样自然就引起了争吵，尽避斯特雷克曾用那把小刀自卫，辛普森却没有受到丝毫伤害，而辛普森则用他那沉重的手杖把驯马师头颅打碎。然后，这个偷马贼把马藏在隐蔽的地方，要不就是在他们搏斗时，那骑马脱缰逃走，现在正漂泊在荒野中。这就是警察们对这件案子的看法。尽避这种说法是不大可靠的，可是所有其它解释则更是不可能的了。不管怎样，只要我到达现场，我会很快把情况查清的，在这以前，我实在看不出我们如何能从当前情况向前跨进一步。”

我们到达小镇塔维斯托克时，已经是傍晚时分了。塔维斯托克镇就象盾牌上的浮雕一样，坐落在达特穆尔辽阔原野的中心，车站上已有两位绅士在等候我们，一位身材高大，面容英俊，生着鬈曲的头发和一胡一须，一双淡蓝色的眼睛炯炯发光。另一个人身材矮小，机警异常，非常干净利落，身穿礼服大衣，脚上是一双有绑腿的高统靴子，修剪整齐的络腮一胡一子，戴着一只单眼镜，这个人就是著名的体育一爱一好者罗斯上校。前一个人则是警长格雷戈里，他已经誉满英国侦探界了。

“福尔摩斯先生，你能前来，我真感到高兴，”上校说道，”警长已尽一切力量为我们探查，我愿尽一切力量设法为可怜的斯特雷克报仇，并重新找到我的名驹。”

“有什么新的进展吗？”福尔摩斯问道。

“很抱歉，我们的收获很少，”警长说道，“外面有一辆敞篷马车，你一定愿意在天黑以前去看看现场，我们可以在路上谈一谈。”

一分钟以后，我们已经坐在舒适的四轮马车里，轻捷地穿过德文郡的这个古雅的城市。警长格雷戈里满脑子都是情况，滔一滔一不一绝地讲个没完。福尔摩斯偶尔问一问，或插一两句话。我颇感兴趣地注意倾听这两位侦探的对话，罗斯上校则抱臂向后倚靠着，帽子斜拉到双眼上。格雷戈里把他的意见系统地说了出来，几乎和福尔摩斯在火车上的预言完全一样。

“法网已把菲茨罗伊-辛普森紧紧套住，”格雷戈里说道，”我个人相信他就是凶手；同时，我也认识到证据还不确凿，如有新的进展，很可能推翻这种证据。”

“那么斯特雷克的刀伤又是怎么回事呢？”

“我们得出的结论是，在他倒下去时自己划伤的。”

“在我们来这里的路上，我的朋友华生医生也是这样推测的。这样的话，情况就对辛普森不利了。”

“那是毫无疑问的了。辛普森既没有刀，又没有伤痕。可是，对他不利的证据却是非常确凿的。他对那匹失踪的名驹非常注意，又有毒害小马倌的嫌疑，他还在那晚暴雨中外出，并且有一根沉重的手仗，他的领带也在被害人手中。我想，我们完全可以提出诉讼了。”

福尔摩斯摇了摇头。

“一个聪明的律师完全可以把它驳倒，”福尔摩斯说道，”他为什么要从马厩中把马偷走呢？假如他想杀害它，为什么不在马厩内动手呢？在他身上发现有复制的钥匙吗？是哪家药品商卖给他的烈一性一麻醉剂？首先，他一个外乡人能把马藏到哪里？况且还是这样一匹名驹？他要女仆转一交一给看马房少年的那张纸，他自己又是怎么解释的呢？”

“他说那是一张十镑的钞票。他的钱包里确实有一张十镑的纸币。不过你所提的其他疑难问题并不象你所想象的那么难于解决。他在这一地区并不是一个陌生人。每年夏季他要到塔维斯托克镇来住两次。麻醉剂可能是从伦敦带来的。这把钥匙，既已达到使用目的，也许早已扔掉。那匹名驹可能在荒野中的坑一穴一里或在一个废旧矿坑里。”

“至于那条领带，他怎么说的呢？”

“他承认那是他的领带，可是却声称已经遗失了。不过有一个新情况足以证明是他把马从马厩中牵出来的。”

福尔摩斯侧耳倾听着。

“我们发现许多足迹，说明有一伙吉卜赛人在星期一一夜晚来到距发生凶杀案地点一英里之内的地方。星期二他们就离开了。现在，我们假定，在辛普森和吉卜赛人之间有某些协议，在辛普森被人追赶上时，他不是可以把马一交一给吉卜赛人吗？现在那匹名驹不是可以仍在那些吉卜赛人手中吗？”

“这当然可能。”

“正在荒原上搜寻这些吉卜赛人。我也把塔维斯托克镇周围十英里以内每一家马厩和小房屋都检查过了。”

“听说，就在附近不是还有一家驯马厩吗？”

“对，这一点我们当然不能忽视。因为他们的马德斯巴勒是打赌中的第二名驹，名驹银色白额马的失踪对他们非常有利。传说驯马师赛拉斯-布朗在这个比赛项目中下了很大赌注，再说，他对可怜的斯特雷克并不友好。不过，我们已经检查了这些马厩，没有发现他和这件事有什么关系。”

“辛普森这个人和梅普里通马厩的利益没有什么关系吗？”

“完全没有关系。”

福尔摩斯向后靠在车座靠背上，谈话中断了。几分钟以后，我们的马车已停在路旁一座整齐的红砖长檐小别墅前，相距不远，穿过驯马场，是一幢长长的灰瓦房。四外是平缓起伏的荒原，铺满古铜色枯萎的凤尾草，一直延伸到天边，只有塔维斯托克镇的一些尖塔偶尔把荒原遮断。再向西去，还有一群房屋遮断荒原，那就是梅普里通的一些马厩。除了福尔摩斯以外，我们都跳下车来。福尔摩斯仍仰靠在车座靠背上，双目远望着天空，出神地凝思着。我过去碰了碰他的胳臂，他才猛然跳下车来。

“对不起，”福尔摩斯把身一体转向罗斯上校，罗斯上校正惊奇地望着他，福尔摩斯说道，“我正在幻想。”他的双眼发出异样的光彩，尽力抑制着兴奋的心情，我根据以往的经验，知道他已经有了线索，但想不出他是从什么地方找到那线索的。

“也许你愿意立刻就到犯罪现场去吧？福尔摩斯先生，”格雷戈里说道。

“我想我还是先在这里稍停一停，查清一两个细节问题。我看，斯特雷克的一尸一体已经抬回到这里了吧？”

“是的，就在楼上。明天才能验一尸一。”

“他在你这里服务多年了吧？罗斯上校。”

“对，我一直觉得他是一个出色的仆人。”

“警长，我想你已经检查过死者衣袋里的东西并列了清单吧？

“我把东西都放在起居室里，你如果愿意看，就去看吧。”

“那太好啦。”

我们都走进前厅，围着中间的一张桌子坐下来，警长打开了一个方形锡盒，把一些东西放在我们面前。这里有一盒火柴，一根两英寸长的蜡烛，一支用欧石南根制成的ＡＤＰ牌烟斗，一个海豹皮烟袋，里面装着半盎司切得长长的板烟丝，一块带金表链的银怀表，五个一英镑金币，一个铝制铅笔盒，几张纸，一把象牙一柄一小刀，刀刃非常一精一致、坚一硬，上面刻着伦敦韦斯公司字样。

“这把刀子很奇特，”福尔摩斯说着，把刀拿起打量了一会，”我想，刀上有血迹，这就是死者拿着的那把刀子吧？华生，这样的刀子你一定很熟悉吧。”

“这就是我们医生所说的眼翳刀，”我说道。

“我也这样想。刀刃非常一精一致，是作非常一精一密的手术用的。一个人带着这样的小刀在暴雨中外出，又没有把它放到衣袋里，这倒是很奇怪的事。”

“我们在他的一尸一体旁边找到这把小刀的软木圆鞘，”警长说道，“他的妻子告诉我们这把刀原本放在梳妆台上，他在走出家门时把它带上了，这本来不是一件得手的武器，可是或许在这种时刻这是他能拿到的最好武器了。”

“非常可能。这些纸是怎么回事呢？”

“三张是卖草商的收据。一张是罗斯上校给他的指示信。另一张是妇女服饰商的三十七镑十五先令发票，开仆人是邦德街莱苏丽尔太太。发票是开给威廉-德比希尔先生的。斯特雷克太太告诉过我们，德比希尔先生是她丈夫的朋友，往来信件有时就寄到她这里。”

“德比希尔太太倒很阔绰呢，”福尔摩斯看了看发票说道，”二十二畿尼一件衣服可不算便宜罗。不过，这里没有什么可查看的了，我们现在可以到犯罪现场去了。”

我们走出起居室，一个女人正在过道等着，她走上前来，用手拉了拉警长的衣袖。这个女人面容憔悴，瘦削，显出近日来颇受惊吓。

“你抓到他们了吗？你找到他们了吗？”她气喘吁吁地说道。

“没有，斯特雷克太太。不过福尔摩斯先生已经从伦敦到这里来帮助我们，我们一定尽全力去破案。”

“不久以前我肯定在普利茅斯一座公园里见过你，斯特雷克太太，”福尔摩斯说道。

“不，先生，你弄错了。”

“哎呀！我可以发誓。你那时穿着一件淡灰色镶舵鸟一毛一的外套。”

“我从来没有一件这样的衣服，先生，”这个女人答道。

“啊，这就完全清楚了，”福尔摩斯说道，道了一下歉，就随着警长走出来了。走不多远，便穿过荒原来到发现死一尸一的地点，坑边就是曾经挂着大衣的金雀花丛。

“我听说，那晚并没有风，”福尔摩斯说道。

“没有，但是雨下得很大。”

“既然是这样，那么大衣决不是被风吹到金雀花丛上，而是有人放到这里的。”

“对，是有人挂到金雀花丛上的。”

“这倒很值得注意。我发觉这里有许多足迹。不用说，从星期一一夜晚起，有好多人到过这里。”

“在一尸一体旁边曾经放了一张草席，我们大家都站在席子上。”

“太好了。”

“这袋子里有斯特雷克穿的一只长统靴，菲茨罗伊-辛普森的一只皮鞋和银色白额马的一块蹄铁。”

“我亲一爱一的警长，你真高明！”福尔摩斯接过布袋，走到低洼处，把草席拉到中间，然后伸长脖子伏身席上，双手托着下巴，仔细查看面前被践踏的泥土。”哈！这是什么？”福尔摩斯突然喊道。这是一根烧了一半的蜡火柴，这根蜡火柴上面裹一着泥，猛然一看，好象是一根小小的木棍。

“不能想象，我怎么会把它忽略了。”警长神情懊恼地说道。

“它埋在泥土里，是不容易发现的，我所以能看到它，是因为我正在有意找它。”

“怎么！你本来就料到可能找到这个吗？”

“我想这不是不可能的。”

福尔摩斯从袋子里拿出长统靴和地上的脚印一一比较，然后爬到坑边，慢慢匍匐前进到羊齿草和金雀花丛间。

“恐怕这里不会有更多的痕迹了，”警长说道，“我在周围一百码之内都仔细检查过了。”

“的确！”福尔摩斯站起来说道，“你既然这样说，我就不必再多此一举了。可是我倒愿意在天黑以前，在荒原上略微走一走，明天对这里的地形就可以熟悉一些，我想，为了讨个吉利，我把这块马蹄铁装在我衣袋里。”

罗斯上校对我的伙伴这样从容不迫、有条不紊的工作方法，感到非常不耐烦，看了看他的表。

“我希望你和我一起回去，警长，”罗斯上校说道，“有几件事，我想听一听你的意见，特别是，我们要不要向公众声明，把我们的那骑马的名字从参加赛一马的名单中取消。”

“当然不必了，”福尔摩斯果断地高声说道，“我一定能让它参加比赛。”

上校点了点头。

“听到你的意见，我很高兴，先生，”罗斯上校说道，“请你在荒原上走一走之后，到可怜的斯特雷克家找我们，然后我们一起乘车到塔维斯托克镇去。”

罗斯上校和警长已经返回，福尔摩斯和我两个人一起在荒原上慢慢散步。夕一陽一冉冉隐没到梅普里通马厩后面，我们面前广阔无垠的平原上沐浴着金光，晚霞洒射在羊齿草和黑莓上。可是面对这绚丽景色，福尔摩斯却无意欣赏，完全沉浸在深思之中。

“华生，这样吧，”他终于说道，“我们先把是谁杀害约翰-斯特雷克的问题暂时放下，目前仅限于寻找马的下落。现在，假设在悲剧发生的当时或在悲剧发生后，这骑马脱缰逃跑，它能跑到什么地方去呢？马是一爱一合群的。按照它的本一性一，它不是回到金斯皮兰马厩，就是跑到梅普里通马厩去了。它怎么会在荒原上乱跑呢？假使如此，它一定会被人看到的。吉卜赛人又为什么要拐走它呢？这些人品常一听说出了什么乱子，总是躲得远远的，唯恐被警察纠缠不休。他们是不会认为能卖掉这样一匹名驹的。要是带上它，他们要冒很大风险而且一无所获，这一点是非常清楚的。”

“那么，马在哪里呢？”

“我已经说过，它不是到金斯皮兰就是到梅普里通去了。现在不在金斯皮兰，那一定在梅普里通。我们就按这个假想去办，看结果怎么样。警长说过，这一片荒原的土质非常坚一硬而且干燥，可是向梅普里通地势则愈来愈低，从这里你可以看到那边是一个长长的低洼地带，在星期一一夜晚一定是非常潮一湿的。要是我们的假定不错，那么这匹名驹必然会经过那里，我们就可以在那里找到它的蹄印了。”

我们边谈边走，兴致勃勃，几分钟以后，就走到我们所说的洼地了。我按照福尔摩斯的要求，向右边走去，福尔摩斯则走向左方，可是我走了还不到五十步，就听到他叫我，并且看到他向我招手。原来在他面前松一软的土地上有一些清晰的马蹄印，而福尔摩斯从袋里取出马蹄铁与地上的蹄印一对照，竟完全吻合。

“你瞧设想该是多么重要，”福尔摩斯说道，“格雷戈里就缺乏这种素质。我们对已发生的事可能是什么有所设想，并按设想的情况去办，结果证明有道理。那我们就进行下去吧。”

我们穿过湿一软的低洼地段，走过了四分之一英里的干硬的草地，地形开始下斜，重新发现了马蹄印，后来马蹄印又中断了半英里光景，可是在梅普里通附近，却又发现了马蹄印。福尔摩斯首先发现了它，他站在那里用手指点，脸上现出胜利的喜悦神情。在马蹄印旁边可以明显看出还有一个男人的脚印。

“开始这骑马是独行的。”我大声说道。

“完全如此。开始它是独行的。嘿，这是怎么回事？”

原来这两种足迹突然朝金斯皮兰方向转去。福尔摩斯吹起口哨，我们两个人追踪前进。福尔摩斯双目紧盯着足迹，可是我偶然向旁边一看，使我惊奇的是，我看到这同样的足迹又折回原方向。

“华生，你真是好样的，”在我指给福尔摩斯看时，他说道，”你使我们少跑好多路，要不然我们就走回头路了。我们现在还按折回的足迹走吧。”

我们走了没有多远，足迹在通往梅普里通马厩大门的沥青路上中断了。我们刚一靠近马厩，一个马夫从里面跑出来。

“我们这里不准闲人逗留，”那个人说道。

“我只想问一个问题，”福尔摩斯把拇指和食指插到背心口袋里说道，“要是明天早晨五点钟我来拜访你的主人赛拉斯-布朗先生，是不是太早了？”

“上帝保佑你，先生，如果那时有人来，他会接见的，因为他总是第一个起一床一。可是他来了，先生，你自己去问他吧。不，先生，不行，如果让他看见我拿你的钱，他就会赶走我，假如你愿意给的话，请等一会。”

福尔摩斯刚要从口袋里拿出一块半克朗的金币，听到①这话，随即放回原处，一个面容狰狞可怕的老人从门内大踏步地走了出来，手中挥舞着一支猎鞭。

“这是干什么，道森？！”他叫喊道，”不许闲谈！去干你的事！还有你们，你们究竟来干什么？”

“我们要和你谈十分钟，我的好先生，”福尔摩斯和颜悦色地说道。

“我没有时间和每个游手好闲的人谈话，我们这里不许生①半克朗：合二先令六便士——译者注人停留。走开，要不然我就放狗咬你们。”

福尔摩斯俯身向前，在他耳旁低语了几句。他猛然跳起来，面红耳赤。

“扯谎！”他高喊道，”无一耻谎言！”

“很好。我们是在这里当众争论好呢，还是到你的客厅里谈一谈好呢？”

“啊，要是你愿意，请吧。”

福尔摩斯微微一笑。

“我不会让你等很久的。华生，”福尔摩斯说道，“现在，布朗先生，我完全听你吩咐。”

过了有二十分钟，福尔摩斯和他重新走出来时，天上的红光已经完全暗下来了。我从来还没见过有谁会象赛拉斯-布朗那样一霎那间就有那么大的转变。他的面色灰白，额上满是汗珠，他的双手颤一抖，手中的猎鞭象风中的细树枝一样摆一动。他那种专横霸道的神情也一扫而光，畏缩地随在我的伙伴身旁，象一条狗跟着它的主人一样。

“一定照您的指示去办。一定完全照办。”他说道。

“一定不能出错，”福尔摩斯回头看着他说道。他战战兢兢，好象从福尔摩斯的目光中看到了可怕的威力。

“啊，是的，一定不会出错。保证出场。我要不要改变它？”

福尔摩斯想了想，忽然纵声大笑，”不，不用了。”福尔摩斯说道，“我会写信通知你。不许耍花招，嗯，否则……”

“啊，请相信我，请相信我！”

“好，我想可以相信你。嗯，明天一定听我的信。”布朗哆哆嗦嗦地向他伸过手来，福尔摩斯毫不理睬，转身就走，于是我们便向返回金斯皮兰的方向走去。

“象赛拉斯-布朗这样一会儿气壮如牛、一会儿又胆小如鼠、而且一奴一气十足的杂种，我倒很少见过呢。”在我们拖着沉重的脚步返回时，福尔摩斯说道。

“那么说，马在他那里了？”

“他原本虚声恫吓，想把事情赖掉。可是我把他那天早晨干的事说得分毫不差，因此他相信我当时是在瞅着他。你当然会注意到那个特殊的方头鞋印，布朗的长统靴正和它一样。还有，这种事当然不是下人们胆敢做的。根据他总是第一个起一床一的一习一惯，我对他说，他是怎么发觉有一匹奇怪的马在荒野上徘徊的，又是怎么出去迎它的，当他看到那骑马名不虚传的白额头时，又是如何地喜出望外的，因为只有这骑马才能战败他下赌注的那一骑马，而不意竟然落到了自己的手中。后来我又叙述说，他开始一闪念间是如何打算把马送回金斯皮兰，后来又是如何陡起邪念，想把马一直藏到比赛结束的，因而是怎样把马牵回来，藏在梅普里通的。我把这一切细节都讲给他听，他不得不认输，只想保全自己的生命了。”

“可是马厩不是搜查过了吗？”

“啊，象他这样的老马混子是诡计多端的。”

“既然他为了切身利益可以伤害那匹名驹，可你现在还把马留在他手里，你难道不担心吗？”

“我亲一爱一的伙计，他会象保护眼珠一样保护它的。因为他知道受宽大的唯一希望就是保证那骑马的安全啊。”

“我觉得罗斯上校无论如何不是一个肯宽恕别人的人。”

“这件事并不取决于罗斯上校。我可以自行其是，根据自己的选择对掌握的情况多说或少说。这就是非官方侦探的有利条件。华生，我不知道你是否发现，罗斯上校对我有点傲慢。现在我想拿他来稍微开开心。不要告诉他关于马的事。”

“没有你的许可我一定不说。”

“而且这件事与是谁杀害约翰-斯特雷克的问题相比，当然是微不足道的了。”

“你打算追查凶手吗？”

“正相反，我们两个人今天就乘夜车返回伦敦。”

我朋友的话完全出乎我的意料之外。我们到德文郡才几个小时，而一开始调查研究就干得这么漂亮，现在他竟然要撒手回去，这可使我百思不解了。在我们返回驯马师寓所的途中，不论我怎样追问，他都绝口不谈此事。上校和警长早已在客厅等着我们。

“我和我的朋友打算乘夜车返回城里，”福尔摩斯说道，”已经呼吸过你们达特穆尔的新鲜空气了，可真令人心旷神怡啊。”

警长目瞪口呆，上校轻蔑地撇撇嘴。

“这么说来你是对拿获杀害可怜的斯特雷克的凶手丧失信心了，”上校说道。

福尔摩斯耸了耸双肩。

“这有很大困难，”福尔摩斯说道，“可是我完全相信，你的马可以参加星期二的比赛，请你准备好赛一马骑师吧。我可以要一张约翰-斯特雷克的照片吗？”

警长从一个信封中一抽一出一张照片递给福尔摩斯。

“亲一爱一的格雷戈里，你把我需要的东西事先都准备齐全了。请你在这里稍等片刻，我想向女仆问一个问题。”

“我应该承认，对我们这位从伦敦来的顾问我颇为失望，”我的朋友刚一走出去，罗斯上校便直截了当地说道，“我看不出他来这儿以后有什么进展。”

“至少他已向你保证，你的马一定能参加比赛，”我说道。

“是的，他向我保证了，”上校耸了耸双肩说道，“但愿他找到了我那骑马，证明他不是瞎说。”

为了维护我的朋友，我正准备驳斥他，可是福尔摩斯又走进屋来。

“先生们，”福尔摩斯说道，“现在我已经完全准备好到塔维斯托克镇去了。”

在我们上四轮马车时，一个小马倌给我们打开车门。福尔摩斯似乎忽然想起了什么，便俯身向前，拉了拉小马倌的衣袖。

“你们的围场里有一些绵羊，”福尔摩斯问道，”谁照料它们？”

“是我，先生。”

“你发现近来它们有什么一毛一病吗？”

“啊，先生，没什么大不了的事，不过有三只跛足了。”

我看出，福尔摩斯极为满意，因为他一搓一着双手，咧着嘴轻轻地笑了。

“大胆的推测，华生，可推测得非常准，”福尔摩斯捏了一下我的手臂，说道，“格雷戈里，我劝你注意一下羊群中的这种奇异病症。走吧！车夫。”

罗斯上校脸上的表情和以前一样，显出对我朋友的才能不十分相信的神态，可是我从警长脸上的表情看出，福尔摩斯的话使他非常注意。

“你断定这是很重要的吗？”格雷戈里问道。

“非常重要。”

“你还要我注意其它一些问题吗？”

“在那天夜里，狗的反应是奇怪的。”

“那天晚上，狗没有什么异常反应啊。”

“这正是奇怪的地方。”歇洛克-福尔摩斯提醒道。

四天以后，我和福尔摩斯决定乘车到一温一切斯特市去看韦塞克斯杯锦标赛。罗斯上校如约在车站旁迎接我们，我们乘坐他那高大的马车到城外跑马场去。罗斯上校面色一陰一沉，态度非常冷淡。

“直到现在我的马一点消息也没有，”上校说道。

“我想你看到它，总能认得它吧？”福尔摩斯问道。

上校极为恼怒。

“我在赛一马场已经二十年了，以前从来还没有听过这样的问题，”他说着，”连小孩子也认得银色白额马的白额头和它那斑驳的右前腿。”

“赌注怎么样？”

“这才是奥妙之处呢。昨天是十五比一，可是差额越来越小了，现在竟跌到三比一。”

“哈！”福尔摩斯说道，“分明是有人知道了什么消息。”

马车驶抵看台的围墙，我看到赛一马牌上参加赛一马的名单。

韦塞克斯金杯赛

赛一马年龄：以四、五岁口为限。赛程：一英里五弗隆。每马一交一款五十镑。头名除金杯外得奖一千镑。第二名得奖三百镑。第三名得奖二百镑。

一、希恩-牛顿先生的赛一马尼格罗。骑师着红帽，棕黄色上衣。

二、沃德洛上校的赛一马帕吉利斯特。骑师着桃红帽，黑蓝色上衣。

三、巴克沃特勋爵的赛一马德斯巴勒。骑师着黄帽，黄色衣袖。

四、罗斯上校的赛一马银色白额马。骑师着黑帽，红色上衣。

五、巴尔莫拉尔公爵的赛一马艾里斯。骑师着黄帽，黄黑条纹上衣。

六、辛格利福特勋爵的赛一马拉斯波尔。骑师着紫色帽，黑色衣袖。

“我们把一切希望都寄托在你的话上了，把准备好的另一骑马也撤出了比赛，”上校说道，“什么，那是什么？名驹银色白额马？”

“银色白额马，五比四！”赛一马赌客高声喊道，”银色白额马，五比四！德斯巴勒，五比十五！其余赛一马，五比四！”

“所有的赛一马都编了号，”我大声说道，“六七马都出场了。”

“六七马都出场了？那么说，我的马也出来了，”上校异常焦急不安地喊道，”可是我没看到它，没有我那种颜色的马过来。”

“刚跑过五匹，那匹一定是你的。”

我正说着，有一匹矫健的栗色马-悍地从磅马围栏内跑出来，从我们面前缓辔而过，马背上坐着上校那位众所周知的黑帽红衣骑师。

“那不是我的马，”马主人高喊道，”这骑马身上一根白一毛一也没有。你到底搞了什么鬼，福尔摩斯先生？”

“喂，喂，我们来看它跑得怎样，”我的朋友沉着冷静地说道，他用我的双筒望远镜注意观看了几分钟，”太好了！开始得太好了！”他又突然喊道，”它们过来了，已经拐弯了！”

我们从马车上望过去，赛一马一直跑过来，情景异常壮观。六七马原来紧挨在一起，甚至一条地毯可以把六七马一铺盖上，可是跑到中途，梅普里通马厩的黄帽骑师就跑到前面。可是，在它们跑过我们面前时，德斯巴勒的力气已经耗尽了，而罗斯上校的名驹却一冲而上，驰过终点，比它的对手早到六马身长，巴尔莫拉尔公爵的艾里斯名列第三。

“这样看来，真是我那骑马了，”上校把一只手遮到双眼上望着，气喘吁吁地说道，“我承认，我实在摸不着头脑。你不认为你把秘密保守得时间太久了吗？福尔摩斯先生。”

“当然了，上校，你马上会知道一切情况的。我们现在顺便一起去看看这骑马。它在这里，”福尔摩斯继续说道，这时我们已经走进磅马的围栏，这地方只准许马主人和他们的朋友进去，”你只要用酒一精一把马面和马腿洗一洗，你就可以看到它就是那匹银色白额马。”

“你真使我大吃一惊！”

“我在盗马者手中找到了它，便擅自作主让它这样来参加马赛了。”

“我亲一爱一的先生，你做得真神秘。这骑马看来非常健壮、良好。它一生中从来还没有象今天跑得这样好。我当初对你的才能有些怀疑，实在感到万分抱歉。你给我找到了马，替一我做了件大好事，如果你能抓到杀害约翰-斯特雷克的凶手，你就更给我帮了大忙了。”

“这件事，我也办到了。”福尔摩斯不慌不忙地说道。

上校和我都吃惊地望着福尔摩斯，上校问道：

“你已经抓到他了？那么，他在哪里？”

“他就在这里。”

“这里！在哪儿？”

“此刻就和我在一起。”

上校气得满脸通红。

“我完全承认我受到了你的好处，福尔摩斯先生，”上校说道，“可是我认为你刚才的话，不是恶作剧就是侮辱人！”

福尔摩斯笑了起来。

“我向你保证，我并没有认为你同罪犯有什么联系，上校，”福尔摩斯说道，“真正的凶手就站在你身后，”他走过去，把手放到这匹良马光滑的马颈上。

“这骑马！”上校和我两个人同时高声喊道。

“是的，这骑马。假如我说明，它是为了自卫杀人，那就可以减轻它的罪过了。而约翰-斯特雷克是一个根本不值得你信任的人。现在铃响了，我想在下一场比赛中，稍稍赢一点。我们再找适当的时机详细谈一谈吧。”

那天晚上我们乘坐普尔门式客车返回伦敦，我们的朋友详细地讲述星期一一夜晚达特穆尔驯马厩里发生的那些事，和他的解决方法，使我们听得入了神，我料想，罗斯上校和我本人一样，觉得旅程是太短了。

“我承认，”福尔摩斯说道，“我根据报纸报道所形成的概念，是完全不正确的。可是这里仍然有一些迹象，如果不是被迫它细节所掩盖的话，那本来是非常重要的。我到德文郡去时，也深信菲茨罗伊-辛普森就是罪犯。当然，那时我也曾看到并没有确凿的证据。而在我乘坐马车，刚好来到驯马师房前时，我突然想到咖喱羊肉一具有重要的意义。你们该记得，在你们都从车上下来时，我那时正在出神，仍旧坐着不动。我是在对我自己的头脑感到惊异，我怎么竟能忽略了这样一条明显的线索。”

“我承认，”上校说道，“甚至现在我也看不出咖喱羊肉对我们有什么帮助。”

“它是我推理锁链中的第一个环节。弄成粉末的麻醉剂决不是没有气味的。这气味虽不难闻，可是能察觉出来。要是把它掺在普通的菜里面，吃的人毫无疑问可以发现出来，可能就不会再吃下去。而咖喱正是可以掩盖这种气味的东西。不可能设想，陌生人菲茨罗伊-辛普森那天晚上会把咖喱带到驯马人家中去用。另一种特别怪诞的设想是，那天晚上他带着弄成粉末的麻醉剂前来，正好碰到可以掩盖这种气味的菜肴，这种巧合当然是难以置信的。因此，辛普森这个嫌疑就排除了。于是，我的注意重点就落到斯特雷克夫妇身上。只有这两个人能选择咖喱羊肉供这天晚上的晚餐用。麻醉剂是在菜做好以后专门给小马倌加进去的，因为别人也吃了同样的菜但没有坏作用。那么他们两个人中哪一个接近这份菜肴而未被女启发现呢？

“在解决这个问题以前，我了解到这条狗不出声的重要一性一，因为一个可靠的推论总会启发出其他的问题来。我从辛普森这个插曲中知道，马厩中有一条狗，然而，尽避有人进来，并且把马牵走，它竟毫不吠叫，没有惊动睡在草料棚里的两个看马房的人。显然，这位午夜来客是这条狗非常熟悉的人物。

“我已经确信，或者说差不多确信，约翰-斯特雷克在深夜来到马厩，把马牵走了。为了什么目的呢？显然，是不怀好意，不然，他为什么要麻醉他自己的小马倌呢？可是，我一下子想不出为什么。以前有过一些案子，驯马师通过代理人把大量的赌注押在自己的马的败北上，然后为了欺骗，故意不让自己的马得胜。有时，在赛一马中故意放慢速度而输掉。有时他们用一些更有把握更一陰一险狡猾的手法。这里用的是什么手法呢？我希望检查死者的衣袋里的东西后再作出结论。

“事实正是如此，你们总不会忘记在死者手中发现的那把奇特的小刀吧，当然没有一个神智正常的人会拿它来当武器使用。正象华生医生告诉我们的那样，这是外科手术室用来做最一精一密手术的手术刀。那天晚上，这把小刀也是准备用来做一精一密手术的。罗斯上校，你对赛一马是有丰富经验的，你总该知道，在马的后踝骨腱子肉上从皮下划一小道轻轻的伤痕，那是绝对显不出痕迹来的。经过这样处理的马将慢慢出现些轻微的跛足，而这会被人当做是训练过度或是有一点风湿痛，可是却不会被人发现是一个肮脏的一陰一谋。”

“恶棍！坏蛋！”上校大声嚷道。

“我们已经清楚约翰-斯特雷克把马牵到荒野去的目的了。而这样一匹烈马受到刀刺以后，一定高声嘶叫，因而会惊醒在草料棚睡觉的人。所以绝对需要到野外去干这个勾当。”

“我真瞎了眼！”上校高喊道，”怪不得他要用蜡烛和火柴了。”

“是啊，经过检查他的东西以后，我非常幸运地不仅发现了他的犯罪方法，甚至连他的犯罪动机也找到了。上校，你是一个老于世故的人，你当然知道一个人不会把别人的账单装在自己的口袋里。我们一般人都是自己解决自己的账务。所以我立即断定，斯特雷克过着重婚生活，并且另有一所住宅。从那份账单可以看出，这件案子里一定有一个一爱一挥霍的女人。即使象你这样对仆人慷慨大方的人，也很难料想到他们能花二十畿尼给女人买一件衣服。我曾趁岂不备向斯特雷克夫人打听过这件衣服的事，可是她闻所未闻，这使我很满意，说明这件事和她没有关系。我记下了服饰商的地址，本能地感到我带上斯特雷克的照片一定能很容易地解决这位神秘的德比希尔先生的问题。

“从那时期，一切就都清楚了。斯特雷克把马牵到一个坑一穴一里，在那里他点起蜡烛，使人家看不到。辛普森在逃走时把领带丢一了，斯特雷克把它捡起来，或许是打算用来绑马腿。到了坑一穴一，他走到马后面，点起了蜡烛，可是突然一亮，马受到惊骇，出于动物的特异本能预感到有人要加害于它，便猛烈地尥起蹶子来，铁蹄子正踢到斯特雷克额头上，而这时斯特雷克为了干他那种细致的工作，不顾下雨，已经把他的大衣脱掉，所以在他倒下去时，小刀就把他自己的大一腿划破了。我说得清楚吗？”

“妙啊！”上校喊道，”妙啊！你好象亲眼看到了一样。”

“我承认，我最后的一点推测是非常大胆的。在我看来，斯特雷克是个诡计多端的家伙，他不经过试验是不会轻易在马踝骨腱肉上做这种细致的手术的。他能在什么东西上做实验呢？我看到了绵羊，便提了一个问题，甚至连我自己也感到惊奇，得到的回答竟说明我的推测是正确的。

“我回伦敦后，拜访了那位服饰商，她认出斯特雷克是那个化名德比希尔的阔绰顾客，他有一个打扮得很漂亮的妻子，特别喜好豪华的服饰。我毫不怀疑，就是这个女人使斯特雷克背上了满身的债务，因而走上犯罪的道路。”

“除了一个问题以外。你把一切都说得一清二楚，”上校大声说道，“这骑马在哪里呢？”

“啊，它脱缰逃跑了，你的一位邻居照料了它。在这个问题上我们必须宽容。我想，如果我没有弄错的话，已经到了克拉彭站，过不了十分钟我们就到维多利亚车站了。如果你愿意到我们那里吸吸烟，上校，我很高兴把其它一些细节讲给你听，一定会使你颇感兴趣的。”

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