"Doyle, Arthur Conan - Sherlock Holmes 04 - The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Arthur Conan)

direction of King's Pyland. Homes 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 pointed 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 groom 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!"