Young Sherlock Holmes_ Red Leech - Andrew Lane [12]
Sherlock saddled up his horse and then, taking the reins of the other horse in his left hand, he trotted his horse out into the open, leading the other horse after him. Having two horses rather than one to worry about made the ride slower, but he was still in Farnham within half an hour and heading for the spot on the river where Matty’s narrowboat was moored.
Matty was sitting on top of the boat, staring out at the river. He jumped up when he saw Sherlock.
‘You’ve got the horses,’ he pointed out.
‘I know,’ Sherlock said. ‘Your powers of observation are amazing.’
‘Shove off,’ Matty said calmly. ‘I observe that you want me to come with you someplace. If that’s right, you don’t want to be too sarcastic’
‘Point taken,’ Sherlock replied. ‘Sorry I can’t help myself sometimes’
‘So, what’s up?’
‘I thought you might want to have a ride out to Godalming,’ Sherlock told him.
Matty squinted at Sherlock. ‘What would I want to do that for?’
‘I’ll tell you on the way,’ Sherlock replied.
The ride to Godalming took them up a gradual slope which went on for miles. The hill was actually the beginning of a ridge that led away into the distance. It fell away to both sides, and the countryside spread out before them until it was lost in a haze of distant smoke.
Matty glanced over his shoulder at Sherlock. ‘We go along the Hog’s Back for a while, then we come off downhill, through Gomshall. It’ll take an hour or so. You OK to keep going, or do you want to rest for a moment?’
‘Let’s just admire the view for a minute or two,’ Sherlock said. ‘Let the horses get their breath back.’
‘The horses are fine,’ Matty pointed out. ‘You’re not getting saddle-sore, are you?’
The rest of the ride was easier, taking them past fields and large areas of common ground where sheep and goats and pigs grazed side by side. As they came to the edges of Godalming they passed across a bridge over a narrow river lined with green reeds as tall as a man. A road led off to the left, just over the bridge.
‘I think that’s the Guildford Road,’ Matty said, pointing. ‘Which way do you want to go?’
‘Let’s head out of town for a while,’ Sherlock replied. ‘I’ve got a feeling the place I’m looking for is further out, more isolated.’
They rode along for a while, slower this time so Sherlock could check out the houses as they passed. Matty seemed content just to look around, without asking Sherlock what they were doing.
Many of the houses weren’t named, or were smaller than Sherlock was expecting to find. After all, there was no point calling a place Shenandoah if it was a broken-down hovel, was there? A name, especially one that grand, implied something bigger, more substantial. A few of the houses had kids playing outside, either with wooden tops and string or with leather balls. One or two of them waved as the boys trotted past.
Eventually they came to a house set apart from any others; not in its own grounds, but isolated by a bend in the road and a copse of trees. From the road, Sherlock could see a wooden plate by the door. The word on it was long, and it might have begun with an ‘S’. Or it might not. Purple-flowering wisteria vines curled up the side of the building, clinging to any gap or projection they could find.
‘Is this it?’ Matty asked. ‘Shall we go and knock?’
‘No,’ Sherlock said. ‘Keep riding till we get past, then stop.’
The front of the house was whitewashed, and there were shutters on the windows. The garden was well maintained, he noticed as they went past. Someone was obviously living there.
Once past the house, the boys slowed down to a stop.
‘Look, you’re obviously checking the place out,’ Matty said, ‘and you don’t want the bloke living there to know it. What’s going on?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Sherlock promised. ‘I need to get closer to the front door. Any ideas?’
‘Walk up the path and knock?’
‘Funny’ He glanced around. Nothing immediately suggested itself. ‘Can you ride back to those kids we saw playing with the ball?’ He delved into