“Where?”
“Ah, there we come to the edge of the unexplored. Let me go a little further, a very little further, and I will promise that you shall share everything that I know.”
“Well, we’re bound to take you on your own terms,” said the inspector; “but when it comes to telling us to abandon the case—why in the name of goodness should we abandon the case?”
“For the simple reason, my dear Mr. Mac, that you have not got the first idea what it is that you are investigating.”
“We are investigating the murder of Mr. John Douglas of Birlstone Manor.”
“Yes, yes, so you are. But don’t trouble to trace the mysterious gentleman upon the bicycle. I assure you that it won’t help you.”
“Then what do you suggest that we do?”
“I will tell you exactly what to do, if you will do it.”
“Well, I’m bound to say I’ve always found you had reason behind all your queer ways. I’ll do what you advise.”
“And you, Mr. White Mason?”
The country detective looked helplessly from one to the other. Holmes and his methods were new to him. “Well, if it is good enough for the inspector, it is good enough for me,” he said at last.
“Capital!” said Holmes. “Well, then, I should recommend a nice, cheery country walk for both of you. They tell me that the views from Birlstone Ridge over the Weald are very remarkable. No doubt lunch could be got at some suitable hostelry; though my ignorance of the country prevents me from recommending one. In the evening, tired but happy—”