It was there that he kept his hound and there also he had made preparations so that he might have a refuge.

That is where he would fly." The fog-bank lay like white wool against the window.

Holmes held the lamp towards it.
"See," said he.

"No one could find his way into the Grimpen Mire tonight." She laughed and clapped her hands.

Her eyes and teeth gleamed with fierce merriment.
"He may find his way in, but never out," she cried.