The Strange Return of Sherlock Holmes by Barry Grant Read Free Book Online

turned.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Bundle, squinting and nodding. ‘That is the case.’
    â€˜This book may well tell us a tale or two that the author never envisioned,’ said Coombes. ‘I should like to examine it more closely.’
    Bundle stepped backwards a pace and held his arms wide, palms up. ‘Help yourself, Mr Coombes.’
    â€˜Thank you.’
    Bundle raised a brow, rocked back on his heels, and looked on with an expression both patronizing and puzzled as Coombes pulled a plastic shopping bag from his pocket, removed the book carefully from the table top, and placed it into the bag. ‘I will be sure to give this back to you, sergeant,’ said Coombes. ‘I will take good care of it.’
    â€˜I can’t imagine what you hope to learn from a book. It looks new.’
    â€˜Very new,’ said Coombes. ‘Now let us examine the area around the house. The rain of yesterday should have prepared the earth for tracks. A pity that the police have been driving in and out, tromping here and there.’
    â€˜We had to arrive, Mr Coombes,’ said Bundle with a smile, and he held his finger in the air. ‘We had to arrive, didn’t we, sir?’
    Coombes hopped down the front steps. He circled the cottage, looking carefully at the ground as he went, pausing every few paces to look up at the house, at the nearby trees, at the surrounding area. He then made his way along the driveway, staying to the edge. The driveway was light sand and gravel, damp with rain. Every once in a while I heard Coombes groan ‘Ah!’ as if he’d found something. When he reached the end of the drive he motioned me towards him and pointed to a patch of sand amidst grass at the very margin. ‘Can you see the tracks – a fat bicycle tyre. What they call a mountain bike tyre.’
    â€˜I see it,’ I said. ‘Barely.’
    â€˜Let me call your attention to this other set of tracks, nearby. Two sets of bicycle tracks. One going in, one coming out. Both at the very edge of the driveway.’
    â€˜They become plainer and plainer as I stare.’
    â€˜Now look, Wilson, in the centre of the drive. Someone walked to the cottage in the rain last night. You see occasionally a footprint. Many of the prints have been wiped out by the tyre prints of police vehicles, but many remain.’
    Coombes was off again, turning right at the end of the drive and proceeding along the edge of the lane, squatting so low that he seemed to be almost crawling. He darted along like a monkey, past Mrs Ogmore’s driveway, and then he veered into the trees. Suddenly he stood and waved at me and shouted, ‘Go get the car!’
    I walked back to The Old Vicarage where Sergeant Bundle was waiting. We drove out into the lane, turned right, and then I spotted Coombes far into the trees, on his hands and knees.
    â€˜Lord, Lord, what is that man doing!’ cried Bundle. ‘I am responsible for him!’
    Coombes crawled awhile, then suddenly stood and held up what appeared to be a black cloth. He waved it at us and then made his way towards the lane, on an angle. We picked him up and drove on slowly.
    â€˜You crawled a long way through the grass, Mr Coombes,’ said Bundle. ‘I’ve never seen detective work done in that manner before.’
    â€˜It was necessary.’
    â€˜Ah, but you crawled a very long way for a man of your age,’ said Bundle. ‘I don’t know if that is good.’
    â€˜You mustn’t take your duties too seriously, sergeant. I found something of interest.’
    â€˜Yes?’
    Coombes held up a black pillow slip.
    â€˜How very odd,’ said Bundle. ‘Who would sleep on black sheets?’
    â€˜Fashion,’ I said.
    â€˜Odder still,’ said Coombes, ‘is that two holes have been cut in it – apparently eye holes.’
    â€˜Do you see a connection between this and the murder?’ asked