so," declared my friend, cheerfully. "Indeed, I am certain that I can. At any rate, I shall make a gallant attempt, with Watson's aid. Such a book, as you remark, is not easily hidden. What say you, Watson, to a run down to Walton-on-Walton!"
"There is a train in half an hour," said Mr. Harrington Edwards, looking at his watch. "Will you return with me?"
"No, no," laughed Holmes, "that would never do. We must not be seen together just yet, Mr. Edwards. Go back yourself on the first train, by all means, unless you have further business in London. My friend and I will go together. There is another train this morning!"
"An hour later."
"Excellent. Until we meet, then!"
II
We took the train from Paddington Station an hour later, as we had promised, and began the journey to Walton-on- Walton, a pleasant, aristocratic village and the scene of the curious accident to our friend of Poke Stogis Manor. Holmes, lying back in his seat, blew earnest smoke rings at the ceilin
