"Very, very peculiar, I'll say," commented Holmes cynically, as the Countess, Tooter, Hicks, Budd, Letstrayed, Lord Launcelot, and Thorneycroft stopped at the edge of the wide-spreading lawn on observing its wetness.
"Come on, everybody, let's take a little stroll around these beautiful ancestral acres. A few rain-drops won't hurt you."
And, so saying, the masterful detective grabbed the Earl and me by the arm and signalled to the others to accompany us.
"I have a motive for doing this, Earl," whispered Holmes to the latter, as the rest of the party reluctantly followed us, "which I will let you in on later."
I consented to be hauled around over the drenched grass by my domineering partner, as I knew from long experience that he was liable to do almost anything while on a mystery-hunt, and I accordingly kept my mouth closed. Billie Budd had his hat knocked off by a low-hanging limb of a tree that we passed under, and he let out a few choice Australian cuss-words that he had learned at the Ballarat gold mines, as he scowled at Hemlock Holmes, the author of this unaccountable promenade in the wet grass.
"Say, what do you think you're doing, anyhow, Mr. Smart-Alec from London,—adopting the Kneipp cure?" he growled.
"Don't you worry, Budd old boy, maybe I'll find the lost diamond cuff-buttons out here in the grass. The robbers may have dropped them here as they fled," answered Holmes smilingly, as he slapped the Earl on the back.
"Yes, and, then, again, they may not. I'll just bet you a five-pound note, Holmes, that you don't recover a single one of the eleven cuff-buttons to-day," said Budd.
"Done!" shouted my partner. "Doc Watson, you hold the stakes," he added, turning to me; "here's my five."
"And here's my five," said Budd, with a smile, as he handed me a five-pound note to match Holmes's.