into a corner. Yet, silent as he was, I knew
perfectly well what it was over which he was brooding.
There was but one problem before the public which
could challenge his powers of analysis, and that was
the singular disappearance of the favorite for the
Wessex Cup, and the tragic murder of its trainer.
When, therefore, he suddenly announced his intention
of setting out for the scene of the drama it was only
what I had both expected and hoped for.

"I should be most happy to go down with you if I
should not be in the way," said I.

"My dear Watson, you would confer a great favor upon
me by coming. And I think that your time will not be
misspent, for there are points about the case which
promise to make it an absolutely unique one. We have,
I think, just time to catch our train at Paddington,
and I will go further into the matter upon our
journey. You would oblige me by bringing with you
your very excellent field-glass."

And so it happened that an hour or so later I found
myself in the corner of a first-class carriage flying
along en route for Exeter, while Sherlock Holmes, with
his sharp, eager face framed in his ear-flapped
travelling-cap, dipped rapidly into the bundle of
fresh papers which he had procured at Paddington. We
had left Reading far behind us before he thrust the
last one of them under the seat, and offered me his