The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

is that I could not believe it possible that the most
remarkable horse in England could long remain
concealed, especially in so sparsely inhabited a place
as the north of Dartmoor.  From hour to hour yesterday
I expected to hear that he had been found, and that
his abductor was the murderer of John Straker.  When,
however, another morning had come, and I found that
beyond the arrest of young Fitzroy Simpson nothing had
been done, I felt that it was time for me to take
action.  Yet in some ways I feel that yesterday has
not been wasted."

"You have formed a theory, then?"

"At least I have got a grip of the essential facts of
the case.  I shall enumerate them to you, for nothing
clears up a case so much as stating it to another
person, 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