it was nearly four o’clock when we at last, after passing through the beautiful stroud valley, and over the broad gleaming severn, found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of ross. a lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. in spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic surroundings, i had no difficulty in recognising lestrade, of scotland yard. with him we drove to the hereford arms where a room had already been engaged for us.