downstairs with me, and
I will introduce you to a detective who is a very eminent specialist in
the work that lies before us."

When we descended I followed Holmes into the stable yard, where
he opened the door of a loose-box and led out a squat, lop-eared,
white-and-tan dog, something between a beagle and a foxhound.

"Let me introduce you to Pompey," said he. "Pompey is the pride of the
local draghounds--no very great flier, as his build will show, but
a staunch hound on a scent. Well, Pompey, you may not be fast, but
I expect you will be too fast for a couple of middle-aged London
gentlemen, so I will take the liberty of fastening this leather leash to
your collar. Now, boy, come along, and show what you can do." He led him
across to the doctor's door. The dog sniffed round for an instant, and
then with a shrill whine of excitement started off down the street,
tugging at his leash in his efforts to go faster. In half an hour, we
were clear of the town and hastening down a country road.

"What have you done, Holmes?" I asked.

"A threadbare and venerable device, but useful upon occasion. I walked
into the doctor's yard this morning, and shot my syringe full of aniseed
over the hind wheel. A draghound will follow aniseed from here to John
o'Groat's, and our friend, Armstrong, would have to drive through the
Cam before he would shake Pompey off his trail. Oh, the cunning rascal!
This is how he gave me the slip the other night."

The dog had suddenly turned out of the main road into a grass-grown
lane. Half a mile farther this opened into another broad road, and the
trail turned hard to the right in the direction of the town, which we
had just quitted. The road took a sweep to the south of the town, and
continued in the opposite direction to that in which we started.

"This DETOUR has been entirely for our benefit, then?" said Holmes.
"No wonder that my inquiries among those villagers led to nothing. The
doctor has certainly played the game for all it is worth, and one would
like to know the reason for such elaborate deception. This should be
the village of Trumpington to the right of us. And, by Jove! here is the
brougham coming round the corner. Quick, Watson--quick, or we are done!"

He sprang through a gate into a field, dragging the reluctant Pompey
after him. We had hardly got under the shelter of the hedge when the
carriage rattled past. I caught a glimpse of Dr. Armstrong within, his
shoulders bowed, his h