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Page 16
"That's not my horse," cried the owner. "That beast
has not a white hair upon its body. What is this that
you have done, Mr. Holmes?"
"Well, well, let us see how he gets on," said my
friend, imperturbably. For a few minutes he gazed
through my field-glass. "Capital! An excellent
start!" he cried suddenly. "There they are, coming
round the curve!"
From our drag we had a superb view as they came up the
straight. The six horses were so close together that
a carpet could have covered them, but half way up the
yellow of the Mapleton stable showed to the front.
Before they reached us, however, Desborough's bolt was
shot, and the Colonel's horse, coming away with a
rush, passed the post a good six lengths before its
rival, the Duke of Balmoral's Iris making a bad third.
"It's my race, anyhow," gasped the Colonel, passing
his hand over his eyes. "I confess that I can make
neither head nor tail of it. Don't you think that you
have kept up your mystery long enough, Mr. Holmes?"
"Certainly, Colonel, you shall know everything. Let
us all go round and have a look at the horse together.
Here he is," he continued, as we made our way into the
weighing enclosure, where only owners and their
friends find admittance. "You have only to wash his
face and his leg in spirits of wine, and you will find
that he is the same old Silver Blaze as ever."
"You take my breath away!"
"I found him in the hands of a fakir, and took the
liberty of running him just as he was sent over."
"My dear sir, you have done wonders. The horse looks
very fit and well. It never went better in its life.
I owe you a thousand apologies for having doubted your
ability. You have done me a great service by
recovering my horse. You would do me a greater still
if you could lay your hands on the murderer of John
Straker."
"I have done so," said Holmes quietly.
The Colonel and I stared at him in amazement. "You
have got him! Where is he, then?"
"He is here."
"Here! Where?"
"In my company at the present moment."
The Colonel flushed angrily. "I quite recognize that
I am under obligations to you, Mr. Holmes," said he,
"but I must regard what you have just said as either a
very bad joke or an insult."
Sherlock Holmes laughed. "I assure you that I have
not associated you with the crime, Colonel," said he.
"The real murderer is standing immediately behind
you." He stepped past and laid his hand upon the
glossy neck of the thoroughbred.
"The horse!" cried both the Colonel and myself.
"Yes, the horse. And it may lessen his guilt if I say
that it was done in self-defence, and that John
Straker was a man who was entirely unworthy of your
confidence. But there goes the bell, and as I stand
to win a little on this next race, I shall defer a
lengthy explanation until a more fitting time."
We had the corner of a Pullman car to ourselves that
evening as we whirled back to London, and I fancy that
the journey was a short one to Colonel Ross as well as
to myself, as we listened to our companion's narrative
of the events which had occurred at the Dartmoor
training-stables upon the Monday night, and the means
by which he had unravelled them.
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