"We needn't rush to open the crates, Holmes; in fact we don't have to examine the place at all, if you don't want. It was only something to keep us occupied. Shall we go back out and wait for the train?"
"I'd suggest you do that, gentlemen."
The station master stood in the doorway, looking far different from the cheerful man I had met earlier.
"Don't you remember me, sir? I asked for the timetable."
"So you did, and have you checked it? You can already hear the train. You'd best leave."
"Is it private property we're on?" Holmes inquired.
"No. But there's no reason for you to be here."
"And no reason for you to mind."
His green eyes narrowed.
Holmes stepped in front of me, raising his voice as the train came into view. "My friend and I are unready to leave these parts just now. We have yet to wander through your charming town, something no one should miss."
"I tell you once more, you should leave now."
"Holmes, perhaps—"
"Now, now Watson; surely this man won't begrudge us an afternoon of exploration and refreshment in the town." Holmes held the man's gaze steadily as the train passed.
"Very well," the station master said at length. "I see you've made your choice." His brow was thunderously black.