tell me even less than Miss Smith. She thinks she does not know
the man; I am convinced she does. Why, otherwise, should he be so
desperately anxious that she should not get so near him as to see his
features? You describe him as bending over the handle-bar. Concealment
again, you see. You really have done remarkably badly. He returns to the
house, and you want to find out who he is. You come to a London house
agent!"

"What should I have done?" I cried, with some heat.

"Gone to the nearest public-house. That is the centre of country
gossip. They would have told you every name, from the master to the
scullery-maid. Williamson? It conveys nothing to my mind. If he is an
elderly man he is not this active cyclist who sprints away from that
young lady's athletic pursuit. What have we gained by your expedition?
The knowledge that the girl's story is true. I never doubted it. That
there is a connection between the cyclist and the Hall. I never doubted
that either. That the Hall is tenanted by Williamson. Who's the better
for that? Well, well, my dear sir, don't look so depressed. We can do
little more until next Saturday, and in the meantime I may make one or
two inquiries myself."

Next morning, we had a note from Miss Smith, recounting shortly and
accurately the very incidents which I had seen, but the pith of the
letter lay in the postscript:

I am sure that you will respect my confidence, Mr. Holmes, when I tell
you that my place here has become difficult, owing to the fact that my
employer has proposed marriage to me. I am convinced that his feelings
are most deep and most honourable. At the same time, my promise is of
course given. He took my refusal very seriously, but also very gently.
You can understand, however, that the situation is a little strained.
"Our young friend seems to be getting into deep waters," said Holmes,
thoughtfully, as he finished the letter. "The case certainly presents
more features of interest and more possibility of development than I had
originally thought. I should be none the worse for a quiet, peaceful day
in the country, and I am inclined to run down this afternoon and test
one or two theories which I have formed."

Holmes's quiet day in the country had a singular termination, for
he arrived at Baker Street late in the evening, with a cut lip and a
discoloured lump upon his forehead, besides a general air of dissipation
which would have made his own person the fitting object of a Sc