her bending low over his handle-bar with a curiously furtive suggestion
in every movement. She looked back at him and slowed her pace. He slowed
also. She stopped. He at once stopped, too, keeping two hundred yards
behind her. Her next movement was as unexpected as it was spirited. She
suddenly whisked her wheels round and dashed straight at him. He was as
quick as she, however, and darted off in desperate flight. Presently she
came back up the road again, her head haughtily in the air, not deigning
to take any further notice of her silent attendant. He had turned also,
and still kept his distance until the curve of the road hid them from my
sight.

I remained in my hiding-place, and it was well that I did so, for
presently the man reappeared, cycling slowly back. He turned in at the
Hall gates, and dismounted from his machine. For some minutes I could
see him standing among the trees. His hands were raised, and he seemed
to be settling his necktie. Then he mounted his cycle, and rode away
from me down the drive towards the Hall. I ran across the heath and
peered through the trees. Far away I could catch glimpses of the old
gray building with its bristling Tudor chimneys, but the drive ran
through a dense shrubbery, and I saw no more of my man.

However, it seemed to me that I had done a fairly good morning's work,
and I walked back in high spirits to Farnham. The local house agent
could tell me nothing about Charlington Hall, and referred me to a well
known firm in Pall Mall. There I halted on my way home, and met with
courtesy from the representative. No, I could not have Charlington Hall
for the summer. I was just too late. It had been let about a month ago.
Mr. Williamson was the name of the tenant. He was a respectable, elderly
gentleman. The polite agent was afraid he could say no more, as the
affairs of his clients were not matters which he could discuss.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes listened with attention to the long report which I
was able to present to him that evening, but it did not elicit that
word of curt praise which I had hoped for and should have valued. On
the contrary, his austere face was even more severe than usual as he
commented upon the things that I had done and the things that I had not.

"Your hiding-place, my dear Watson, was very faulty. You should have
been behind the hedge, then you would have had a close view of this
interesting person. As it is, you were some hundreds of yards away and
can