The adventures of Piglock Homes and his sidekick Doctor Bearson.
When he had finished writing his message, Homes swung out of the carriage and along the swaying corridor.
“Where’s he off to?” Yore asked
“At a guess, he’s gone to ask the guard to send a telegraph.”
“Yes. But. Who to? And saying what?”
“Surely that should be to whom, old chap. And I have no idea.”
Yore huffed and puffed a bit.
“I don’t suppose it would be any manner of notice asking Homes what he is up to.”
“You don’t suppose quite rightly. He likes to keep his investigations close to his skinny little chest until such time as he can dazzle us with the brilliance of his deductions.”
“Aye. He does that.”
It was some several minutes before Homes returned, and judging by the amount of purple pencil all about his chops he had written more than one message.
Once he had climbed back into his corner he treated Yore to the smug semblance of a smile.
“I think we have done all we practically might until we reach Princesstown where we may better assess the lie of the land.”
With which announcement he promptly fell asleep.
“He’s an irritating little detective isn’t he?”
Bearson nodded. “Indeed he is.”
Yore produced a greasy pack of playing cards from somewhere about his person and propounded the theory that a hand or two of piquet would help to pass the journey.
Bearson acquiesced, and by the time the train was slowing for Dumplingshire City, he owed Yore all his worldly goods plus any wife he might later acquire and any offspring said wife produced.
Homes awoke and gave Bearson one of his looks. “That, old chap, will tech you to play at picquet with a policeman of Scotland Yard. They are card sharps to a man.”
Yore smiled, although it was a facial expression more suited to a crocodile on the banks of the Irrawaddy than an officer of the law.
Homes turned his attention to the smirking Inspector.
“If certain persons require assistance in the matter of their investigation they should perhaps rethink their attitude in the matter of card sharpery .
Yore inclined his head. “I think upon this occasion,” he announced magnanimously, “that we can call it quits.”
The train roared and hissed its way into the station and Homes hung out of the window.
“It’s a fine night,” he announced happily, “we should have a bright moon for our journey across the muir.” He turned his gimlet eye on Yore. “Do you have a conveyance awaiting us at Ashbaconton?”
“I do. And a sedate driver.”
“Very well. And now I think we need to hustle a little as we have no desire to miss our connection.”
Piglock Homes and his sidekick Doctor Bearson will continue their investigation into The Affair of the Dartymuir Dog next week…