‘Silver Blaze’, a fancied thoroughbred, has gone missing on the eve of the big money race, and his owner, Colonel Ross, has called in the police. In turn, Inspector Gregory has called in Sherlock Holmes, but as the ever-loyal Dr Watson records, the Colonel is getting impatient with London’s most fashionable ‘consulting detective’.
“I MUST say that I am rather disappointed in our London consultant,” said Colonel Ross, bluntly, as my friend left the room. “I do not see that we are any further than when he came.”
“At least you have his assurance that your horse will run,” said I.
“Yes, I have his assurance,” said the Colonel, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I should prefer to have the horse.”
I was about to make some reply in defence of my friend when he entered the room again.
“Now, gentlemen,” said he, “I am quite ready for Tavistock.”
As we stepped into the carriage one of the stable-lads held the door open for us. A sudden idea seemed to occur to Holmes, for he leaned forward and touched the lad upon the sleeve.
“You have a few sheep in the paddock,” he said. “Who attends to them?”
“I do, sir.”
“Have you noticed anything amiss with them of late?”