Music Welcome to Snewscast. The podcast is designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at Snewscast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share it with a friend. This episode is brought to you by a plain clothed scumper. Tonight we'll read the second half to the adventure of the priori school written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as part of 1903's The Return of Sherlock Holmes, the first half aired last week. In last week's episode, Holmes is approached by Dr. Thorne Kroft Huxdebel, the headmaster of the prestigious primary school. Huxedible Sikhs Holmes' help in locating the missing Lord Saltire, the young heir to the Duke of Holderness. Lord Saltire disappeared under mysterious circumstances from the school. The Duke tells Holmes that he does not think that his estranged wife has anything to do with his son's disappearance. Nor has there been a ransom demand. Holmes and Dr. Watson go hunting on the moor for clues. They find a bicycle track, but it is not the German schoolmaster, Heidegger's. Almost everything observable has been obliterated by cow tracks of which there are many tracks.

We will pick up as they continue their search.

Let's get cozy.

Close your eyes.

Relax your body into the softness of your bed.

Now, take a few deep breaths. Holmes and I continued our systematic survey of the edge of the sodden portion of the moor, and soon our perseverance was gloriously rewarded. Right across the lower part of the bog lay a myriad path. Holmes gave a cry of delight as he approached it. An impression like a fine bundle of telegraph wires ran down the center of it. It was the Palmer Tires. Here is Hi-Digger sure enough, cried Holmes, exultantly. My reasoning seems to have been pretty sound Watson. I congratulate you, but we have a long way still to go. Kindly walk clear of the path. Now let us follow the trail. I fear that it will not lead very far. We have found however, as we advanced that this portion of the more is intersected with soft

patches, and though we frequently lost sight of the track, we always succeeded in picking it up once more. The you observe, said Holmes, that the rider is now undoubtedly forcing the pace, there

can be no doubt of it. Look at this impression. Where you get both tires clear, the one is as deep as the other. That can only mean that the rider is throwing his weight onto the handlebar, as a man does when he is sprinting. By jove, he has had a fall. There was a broad or regular smudge covering some yards of the track. Then there were a few foot, and the tire reappeared once more.

A side-slip, I suggested. Homes held up a crumpled branch of flowering gorse. Stand clear

Watson, not an unnecessary footstep. What do I read here?" He fell wounded. He stood up. He remounted. He proceeded. But there is no other track. I see no traces of anyone else. We must push on Watson. Surely with stains as well as the track to guide us. He cannot escape us now. Our search was not a very long one. The tracks of the tire began to curve fantastically upon the wet and shining path.

Suddenly, as I looked ahead, the gleam of metal caught my eye from amid the thick, coarse bushes. Out of them we dragged a bicycle. Palmer tired, one petal bent. On the other side of the bushes, a shoe was projecting. We ran round, and there lay the unfortunate rider. He was a tall man, full bearded, with spectacles, one glass of which had been knocked out. That he could have gone on after receiving such an injury, said much for the vitality and courage of the man. He wore shoes but no socks, and his open coat disclosed a night shirt beneath it. It was undoubtedly the German master. Holmes examined him with great reverence and attention. He then sat in deep thought for a time, and I could see by his ruffled brow that this discovery had not, in his opinion, advanced us much in our inquiry. It is a little difficult to know what to do Watson, said he at last. My own inclinations are to push this inquiry on. For we have already lost so much time that we cannot afford to waste another hour. On the other hand, we are bound to inform the police of the discovery and to see that this poor fellow's body is looked after. I could take a note back, but I need your company and assistance. Wait a bit. There is a fellow cutting Pete up beyond her. Bring him over here and he will guide the police.

I brought the peasant across, and Holmes dispatched the man with a note to Dr. Huxdebel. Now Watson said he, we have picked up two clues this morning. One is the bicycle with the Palmer tire, and we see what that has led to. The other is the bicycle with the patch done-lop. Before we start to investigate that, let us try to realize what we do know, so as to make the most of it, and to separate the essential from the accidental. of all, I wish to impress upon you that the boy certainly left of his own free will. He got down from his window and he went off, either alone or with someone. That is sure. I ascended. Well, now let us turn to this unfortunate German master. The boy was fully dressed when he fled. Therefore he foresaw what he would do. But the German went without his socks. He certainly acted on very short notice. Undoubtedly, why did he go? Because from his bedroom window, he saw the flight of the boy, because he wished to overtake him and bring him back. He seized his bicycle, pursued the lad, and in pursuing, he met his demise. So it would seem, now I come to the critical part of my argument. The natural action of a man in pursuing a boy would be to run after him. He would know that he could overtake him. But the German does not do so. He turns to his bicycle. I am told that he was an excellent cyclist. He would not do this if he did not see that the boy had some swift means of escape. The other bicycle. Let us continue our reconstruction. He meets his end five miles from his school by a blow dealt by a vigorous arm. The lad then had a companion in his flight, and the flight was a swift one, since it took five miles before an expert cyclist could overtake them. Yet, we survey the ground round the scene of the tragedy. What do we find? A few cattle tracks? Nothing more. I took a wide sweep round, and there is no path within fifty yards.

Another cyclist could have had nothing to do with the actual crime, nor were there any human footmarks. Holmes, I cried.

This is impossible.

Admurable, he said.

A most illuminating remark. It is impossible as I stated. And therefore, I must in some respect have stated it wrong. Yet you suffer yourself. Can you suggest any fallacy?

Hmm, I am at my wit's end.

And we have solved some worse problems.

At least we have plenty of material.

If we can only use it, come then.

And having exhausted the Palmer, let us see what the Dunlop with the patched cover has to offer us. We picked up the track and followed it onward for some distance, but soon the more rose into a long, heather-toughed curve, and we left the water course behind us. No further help from tracks could be hoped for. At the spot where we saw the last of the Dunlop tire, it might equally have led dull learn his home, the stately towers of which rose some miles to our left,

were to a low grave village which lay in front of us and marked the position of the Chesterfield High Road. As we approached the squallet in, with the sign of a game-gok above the door,

...