Sherlock Holmes and the Ghosts of Bly by Donald Thomas Read Free Book Online

prints are. It will not matter if you disturb the earth. You see? As you stand now, the slightest movement of your head or torso gives you a full view of the field behind you on your right. And a few yards further on our fugitive does it again—this time to the left.”
    â€œBut why?”
    â€œPerhaps, like Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner, ‘he knows a frightful fiend doth close behind him tread.’ Or simply because he was looking out for someone who might be behind him—or ahead of him.”
    As we walked on, the same “turning prints” occurred more frequently to right and left, as if our fugitive indeed watched for pursuers gaining upon him or sought for friends.
    The path on the far side of the field reached the so-called fence, a few strands of wire stretching along waist-high posts. It would have stopped no one. On the other side the slope went up roughly trodden steps to the top of the railway embankment. We stood by the linesman’s hut and gazed towards the black mouth of the tunnel. Looking back, it was also clear that without realising it we had been climbing a slope as we crossed the field.
    â€œMost interesting,” said Sherlock Holmes quietly. “Most, most interesting.”
    He knelt and made careful measurements of the final imprints of the shoes, as well as mapping the characteristic pattern and blemishes of the sole and heel. Then I supposed we were about to walk back to St Vincent’s, but he had not quite finished.
    â€œThere is something more, Watson. I cannot quite put my finger on it—call it intuition. I daresay it comes from not liking Mr Reginald Winter. Even on so short an acquaintance.”
    â€œYou would hardly need an instinct to persuade you of that!”
    â€œHe is further involved in this than we believed. Why is it so important to him that Riley should have been thought to attempt suicide? You would suppose he might be pleased to discover it was not so. No matter for the moment. Do you notice a pond in line of sight from here?”
    â€œI cannot see water anywhere. Why?”
    â€œPonds are generally surrounded by trees, which they naturally nourish. The trees are very often ash and elder or species that grow quite densely. As a result, quiet corners are provided for concealment, a useful shelter for observation. I have once or twice made use of them myself.”
    We skirted the field. In its furthest corner from which the ground sloped a little, we found what Holmes had looked for. It was no surprise in such a place. This pond, looking back along the track, was not more than eight or ten feet across, the result of a small spring, its surrounding foliage hardly more than an extension of the hedge which ran up to the railway bank on that side. The marshy ground would accommodate no more than two or three people. Bushes and saplings were packed thick enough to conceal whoever might be there, except from a deliberate search. Even this was unlikely to happen without warning, given the view of the approaches, visible between twigs and leaves. Because it was the remotest corner of the field, it was in any case the least likely to attract attention. The immediate view in that direction was along the railway line. It occurred to me that so long as a train was passing—or standing still at this point—the view of the linesman’s hut would be briefly obscured.
    We pulled aside two branches and soon stood in this overgrown space. It would have made an admirable hide for wildfowlers. The flowering elder provided excellent cover. My friend interested himself in the soil around us. Presently, his agile back curved as he swooped upon his prey.
    â€œRather as I supposed,” he said with a contented sigh.
    Taking his magnifying lens from his waistcoat pocket, he unfolded it and stooped again to examine two or three square feet of bare earth, still tacky in the warmer weather. Even without a glass I could see clearly that