his keen face bronzed by the sun and roughened by the wind. In his
tweed suit & cloth cap, he looked like any other tourist upon the
moor, and he had contrived, with that catlike love of personal
cleanliness which was one of his characteristics, that his
chin should be as smooth & his linen as perfect as if he
were in Baker Street.
He was almost as surprised that I had found his retreat as I was
astonished to see him. It was only when he had been within twenty
paces of the door that he had known I was within. It was not my
footprint that had given me away, but the stub of my cigarette,
marked Bradley, Oxford Street, which I had thrown away just before
I entered the hut.
I told Holmes how I had discovered his hiding-place and asked him
