"We are out of luck," said Holmes. "They have taken to a boat
here." Several small punts and skiffs were lying about in the
water and on the edge of the wharf. We took Toby round to each
in turn, but, though he sniffed earnestly, he made no sign.
Close to the rude landing-stage was a small brick house, with a
wooden placard slung out through the second window. "Mordecai
Smith" was printed across it in large letters, and, underneath,
"Boats to hire by the hour or day." A second inscription above
the door informed us that a steam launch was kept,--a statement
which was confirmed by a great pile of coke upon the jetty.
Sherlock Holmes looked slowly round, and his face assumed an
ominous expression.
"This looks bad," said he. "These fellows are sharper than I
expected. They seem to have covered their tracks. There has, I
fear, been preconcerted management here."
He was approaching the door of the house, when it opened, and a
little, curly-headed lad of six came running out, followed by a
stoutish, red-faced woman with a large sponge in her hand.
"You come back and be washed, Jack," she shouted. "Come back,
you young imp; for if your father comes home and finds you like
that, he'll let us hear of it.
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