The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes | Page 2

and I can hardly expect your co-operation if I do
not show you the position from which we start."
I lay back against the cushions, puffing at my cigar, while Holmes,
leaning forward, with his long, thin forefinger checking off the points
upon the palm of his left hand, gave me a sketch of the events which
had led to our journey.
"Silver Blaze," said he, "is from the Somomy stock, and holds as
brilliant a record as his famous ancestor. He is now in his fifth year,
and has brought in turn each of the prizes of the turf to Colonel Ross,
his fortunate owner. Up to the time of the catastrophe he was the first
favorite for the Wessex Cup, the betting being three to one on him. He
has always, however, been a prime favorite with the racing public, and

has never yet disappointed them, so that even at those odds enormous
sums of money have been laid upon him. It is obvious, therefore, that
there were many people who had the strongest interest in preventing
Silver Blaze from being there at the fall of the flag next Tuesday.
"The fact was, of course, appreciated at King's Pyland, where the
Colonel's training-stable is situated. Every precaution was taken to
guard the favorite. The trainer, John Straker, is a retired jockey who
rode in Colonel Ross's colors before he became too heavy for the
weighing-chair. He has served the Colonel for five years as jockey and
for seven as trainer, and has always shown himself to be a zealous and
honest servant. Under him were three lads; for the establishment was a
small one, containing only four horses in all. One of these lads sat up
each night in the stable, while the others slept in the loft. All three bore
excellent characters. John Straker, who is a married man, lived in a
small villa about two hundred yards from the stables. He has no
children, keeps one maid-servant, and is comfortably off. The country
round is very lonely, but about half a mile to the north there is a small
cluster of villas which have been built by a Tavistock contractor for the
use of invalids and others who may wish to enjoy the pure Dartmoor air.
Tavistock itself lies two miles to the west, while across the moor, also
about two miles distant, is the larger training establishment of
Mapleton, which belongs to Lord Backwater, and is managed by Silas
Brown. In every other direction the moor is a complete wilderness,
inhabited only by a few roaming gypsies. Such was the general
situation last Monday night when the catastrophe occurred.
"On that evening the horses had been exercised and watered as usual,
and the stables were locked up at nine o'clock. Two of the lads walked
up to the trainer's house, where they had supper in the kitchen, while
the third, Ned Hunter, remained on guard. At a few minutes after nine
the maid, Edith Baxter, carried down to the stables his supper, which
consisted of a dish of curried mutton. She took no liquid, as there was a
water-tap in the stables, and it was the rule that the lad on duty should
drink nothing else. The maid carried a lantern with her, as it was very
dark and the path ran across the open moor.

"Edith Baxter was within thirty yards of the stables, when a man
appeared out of the darkness and called to her to stop. As he stepped
into the circle of yellow light thrown by the lantern she saw that he was
a person of gentlemanly bearing, dressed in a gray suit of tweeds, with
a cloth cap. He wore gaiters, and carried a heavy stick with a knob to it.
She was most impressed, however, by the extreme pallor of his face
and by the nervousness of his manner. His age, she thought, would be
rather over thirty than under it.
"'Can you tell me where I am?' he asked. 'I had almost made up my
mind to sleep on the moor, when I saw the light of your lantern.'
"'You are close to the King's Pyland training-stables,' said she.
"'Oh, indeed! What a stroke of luck!' he cried. 'I understand that a
stable-boy sleeps there alone every night. Perhaps that is his supper
which you are carrying to him. Now I am sure that you would not be
too proud to earn the price of a new dress, would you?' He took a piece
of white paper folded up out of his waistcoat pocket. 'See that the boy
has this to-night, and you shall have the prettiest frock that money can
buy.'
"She was frightened by the earnestness of his manner, and ran past him
to the window through which