Sherlock Holmes In Montague Street Volume 2 by David Marcum

For some little distance into the wood the tracks continued as before, those of the brothers overlaying those of Sneathy. Then there was a difference. The path here was broader and muddy, because of the proximity of trees, and suddenly the outer footprints separated, and no more overlay the larger ones in the centre, but proceeded at an equal distance on either side of them.
    â€œSee there,” cried Mr. Hardwick, pointing triumphantly to the spot, “this is where they over took him, and walked on either side. The body was found only a little farther on - you could see the place now if the path didn’t zigzag about so.”
    Holmes said nothing, but stooped and examined the tracks at the sides with great care and evident thought, spanning the distances between them comparatively with his arms. Then he rose and stepped lightly from one mark to another, taking care not to tread on the mark itself. “Very good,” he said shortly on finishing his examination. “We’ll go on.”
    We went on, and presently came to the place where the body lay. Here the ground sloped from the left down towards the right, and a tiny streamlet, a mere trickle of a foot or two wide, ran across the path. In rainy seasons it was probably wider, for all the earth and clay had been washed away for some feet on each side, leaving flat, bare and very coarse gravel, on which the trail was lost. Just beyond this, and to the left, the body lay on a grassy knoll under the limb of a tree, from which still depended a part of the cut rope. It was not a pleasant sight. The man was a soft, fleshy creature, probably rather under than over the medium height, and he lay there, with his stretched neck and protruding tongue, a revolting object. His right arm lay by his side, and the stump of the wrist was clotted with black blood. Mr. Hardwick’s man was still in charge, seemingly little pleased with his job, and a few yards off stood a couple of countrymen looking on.
    Holmes asked from which direction these men had come, and having ascertained and noticed their footmarks, he asked them to stay exactly where they were, to avoid confusing such other tracks as might be seen. Then he addressed himself to his examination. “ First ,” he said, glancing up at the branch, that was scarce a yard above his head, “this rope has been here for some time.”
    â€œYes,” Mr. Hardwick replied, “it’s an old swing rope. Some children used it in the summer, but it got partly cut away, and the odd couple of yards has been hanging since.”
    â€œAh,” said Holmes, “then if the Fosters did this they were saved some trouble by the chance, and were able to take their halter back with them - and so avoid one chance of detection.” He very closely scrutinized the top of a tree stump, probably the relic of a tree that had been cut down long before, and then addressed himself to the body.
    â€œWhen you cut it down,” he said, “did it fall in a heap?”
    â€œNo, my man eased it down to some extent.”
    â€œNot on to its face?”
    â€œOh no. On to its back, just as it is now.” Mr. Hardwick saw that Holmes was looking at muddy marks on each of the corpse’s knees, to one of which a small leaf clung, and at one or two other marks of the same sort on the fore part of the dress. “That seems to show pretty plainly,” he said, “that he must have struggled with them and was thrown forward, doesn’t it?”
    Holmes did not reply, but gingerly lifted the right arm by its sleeve. “Is either of the brothers Foster left-handed?” he asked.
    â€œNo, I think not. Here, Bennett, you have seen plenty of their doings - cricket, shooting, and so on - do you remember if either is left-handed?”
    â€œNayther, sir,” Mr. Hardwick’s man answered. “Both on ’em’s right-handed.”
    Holmes lifted the lapel of the coat and attentively regarded