me rather grotesque

and bizarre than dangerous. that a man should lie in wait

for and follow a very handsome woman is no unheard-of

thing, and if he had so little audacity that he not only

dared not address her, but even fled from her approach, he

was not a very formidable assailant. the ruffian woodley

was a very different person, but, except on one occasion,

he had not molested our client, and now he visited the

house of carruthers without intruding upon her presence.

the man on the bicycle was doubtless a member of those

week-end parties at the hall of which the publican had

spoken; but who he was or what he wanted was as obscure as

ever. it was the severity of holmes's manner and the fact

that he slipped a revolver into his pocket before leaving

our rooms which impressed me with the feeling that tragedy

might prove to lurk behind this curious train of events.

a rainy night had been followed by a glorious morning, and

the heath-covered country-side with the glowing clumps of

flowering gorse seemed all the more beautiful to eyes which

were weary of the duns and drabs and slate-greys of london.

holmes and i walked along the broad, sandy road inhaling

the fresh morning air, and rejoicing in the music of the

birds and the fresh breath of the spring. from a rise of

the road on the shoulder of crooksbury hill we could see

the grim hall bristling out from amidst the ancient oaks,

which, old as they were, were still younger than the

building which they surrounded. holmes pointed down the

long tract of road which wound, a reddish yellow band,

between the brown of the heath and the budding green of

the woods. far away, a black dot, we could see a vehicle

moving in our direction. holmes gave an exclamation of

impatience.

"i had given a margin of half an hour," said he.

"if that is her trap she must be making for the earlier train.

i fear, watson, that she will be past charlington before we

can possibly meet her."

from the instant that we passed the rise we could no longer

see the vehicle, but we hastened onwards at such a pace

that my sedentary life began to tell upon me, and i was

compelled to fall behind. holmes, however, was always in

training, for he had inexhaustible stores of nervous energy

upon which to draw. his springy step never slowed until

suddenly, when he was a hundred yards in front of me, he

halted, and i saw him throw up his hand with a gesture of

grief and despair. at the same instant an empty dog-cart,

the horse cantering, the reins trailing, appeared round

the curve of the road and rattled swiftly towards us.

"too late, watson; too late!" cried holmes, as i ran

panting to his side. "fool that i was not to allow for

that earlier train! it's abduction, watson -- abduction!

murder! heaven knows what! block the road! stop the

horse! that's right. now, jump in, and let us see if i

can repair the consequences of my own blunder."

we had sprung into the dog-cart, and holmes, after turning

the horse, gave it a sharp cut with the whip, and we flew

back along the road. as we turned the curve the whole

stretch of road between the hall and the heath was opened up.

i grasped holmes's arm.

"that's the man!" i gasped.

a solitary cyclist was coming towards us. his head was

down and his shoulders rounded as he put every ounce of

energy that he possessed on to the pedals. he was flying

like a racer. suddenly he raised his bearded face, saw us

close to him, and pulled up, springing from his machine.

that coal-black beard was in singular contrast to the

pallor of his face, and his eyes were as bright as if

he had a fever. he stared at us and at the dog-cart.

then a look of amazement came over his face.

"halloa! stop there!" he shouted, holding his bicycle to

block our road. "where did you get that dog-cart? pull

up, man!" he yelled, drawing a pistol from his side pocket.

"pull up, i say, or, by george, i'll put a bullet into your

horse."

holmes threw the reins into my lap and sprang down from the

cart.

"you're the man we want to see. where is miss violet

smith?" he said, in his quick, clear way.

"that's what i am asking you. you're in her dog-cart.

you ought to know where she is."

"we met the dog-cart on the road. there was no one in it.

we drove back to help the young lady."

"good lord! good lord! what shall i do?" cried the

stranger, in an ecstasy of despair. "they've got her, that

hellhound woodley and the blackguard parson. come, man,

come, if you really are her friend. stand by me and we'll

save her, if i have to leave my carcass in charlington wood."

he ran distractedly, his pistol in his hand, towards a gap

in the hedge. holmes followed him, and i, leaving the

horse grazing beside the road, followed holmes.

"this is where they came through," said he, pointing to the

marks of severa