to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him that
I know him to be innocent.
I will, Miss Turner.
I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if I
leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking. She hurried
from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we heard the
wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street.
I am ashamed of you, Holmes, said Lestrade with dignity after a few
minutes silence. Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound to
disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel.
I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy, said Holmes.
Have you an order to see him in prison?
Yes, but only for you and me.
Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have still
time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?
Ample.
Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but
I shall only be away a couple of hours.
I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the
streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay
upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel.
The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the
deep mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention
wander so continually from the action to the fact, that I at last flung
it across the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of
the events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy young man s story
were absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely
unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between the
time when he parted from his father, and the moment when, drawn back by
his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was something terrible and
deadly. What could it be? Might not the nature of the injuries reveal
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