OneofSherlockHolmes’sdefects—if,indeed,onemaycallitadefect—wasthathewasexceedinglyloathtocommunicatehisfullplanstoanyotherpersonuntiltheinstantoftheirfulfilment.Partlyitcamenodoubtfromhisownmasterfulnature,whichlovedtodominateandsurprisethosewhowerearoundhim.Partlyalsofromhisprofessionalcaution,whichurgedhimnevertotakeanychances.Theresult,however,wasverytryingforthosewhowereactingashisagentsandassistants.Ihadoftensufferedunderit,butnevermoresothanduringthatlongdriveinthedarkness.Thegreatordealwasinfrontofusatlastwewereabouttomakeourfinaleffort,andyetHolmeshadsaidnothing,andIcouldonlysurmisewhathiscourseofactionwouldbe.Mynervesthrilledwithanticipationwhenatlastthecoldwinduponourfacesandthedark,voidspacesoneithersideofthenarrowroadtoldmethatwewerebackuponthemooronceagain.Everystrideofthehorsesandeveryturnofthewheelswastakingusnearertooursupremeadventure.
Ourconversationwashamperedbythepresenceofthedriverofthehiredwagonette,sothatwewereforcedtotalkoftrivialmatterswhenournervesweretensewithemotionandanticipation.Itwasarelieftome,afterthatunnaturalrestraint,whenweatlastpassedFrankland’shouseandknewthatweweredrawingneartotheHallandtothesceneofaction.Wedidnotdriveuptothedoorbutgotdownnearthegateoftheavenue.ThewagonettewaspaidoffandorderedtoreturntoCoombeTraceyforthwith,whilewestartedtowalktoMerripitHouse.
“Areyouarmed,Lestrade?”
Thelittledetectivesmiled.“AslongasIhavemytrousersIhaveahip-pocket,andaslongasIhavemyhip-pocketIhavesomethinginit.”
“Good!MyfriendandIarealsoreadyforemergencies.”
“You’remightycloseaboutthisaffair,Mr.Holmes.What’sthegamenow?”
“Awaitinggame.”
“Myword,itdoesnotseemaverycheerfulplace,”saidthedetectivewithashiver,glancingroundhimatthegloomyslopesofthehillandatthehugelakeoffogwhichlayovertheGrimpenMire.“Iseethelightsofahouseaheadofus.”
“ThatisMerripitHouseandthe