Chapter VIII The Baker Street Irregulars
“What now?” I asked. “Toby has lost his character for infallibility.”
“He acted according to his lights,” said Holmes, lifting him down from the barrel and walking him out of the timber-yard. “If you consider how much creasote is carted about London in one day, it is no great wonder that our trail should have been crossed. It is much used now, especially for the seasoning of wood. Poor Toby is not to blame.”
“We must get on the main scent again, I suppose.”
“Yes. And, fortunately, we have no distance to go. Evidently what puzzled the dog at the corner of Knight’s Place was that there were two different trails running in opposite directions. We took the wrong one. It only remains to follow the other.”
There was no difficulty about this. On leadi
