The Man on the Tor
is there at the present moment something moving upon that hillside?”
It was several miles off, but I could distinctly see a small dark dot against the dull green and grey.
“Come, sir, come!” cried Frankland, rushing upstairs. “You will see with your own eyes and judge for yourself.”
The telescope, a formidable instrument mounted upon a tripod, stood upon the flat leads of the house. Frankland clapped his eye to it and gave a cry of satisfaction.
“Quick, Dr. Watson, quick, before he passes over the hill!”
There he was, sure enough, a small urchin with a little bundle upon his shoulder, toiling slowly up the hill. When he reached the crest I saw the ragged, uncouth figure outlined for an instant against the cold blue sky. He looked round him, with a furtive and stealthy air, as one who dreads pursuit. Then he vanished over the hill.
“Well! Am I right?”
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