shadow of a great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes
traced his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon
his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he remained
there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, gathering up what
seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and examining with his lens
not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as he could
reach. A jagged stone was lying among the moss, and this also he
carefully examined and retained. Then he followed a pathway through the
wood until he came to the high road, where all traces were lost.
It has been a case of considerable interest, he remarked, returning
to his natural manner. I fancy that this grey house on the right must
be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and
perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our
luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently.
It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into
Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had picked up
in the wood.
This may interest you, Lestrade, he remarked, holding it out. The
murder was done with it.
I see no marks.
There are none.
How do you know, then?
The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days.
There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It corresponds
with the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon.
And the murderer?
Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears
thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses
a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. There are
several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us in our
search.
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