“There was no need for me to come down!” he replied. “And certainly no need for you, Mr. Harley!”

 

Harley bowed, smiling, at the implied compliment.

 

“It's a common or garden elopement!” continued the detective. “Vane's reputation is absolutely rotten, and the girl was clearly infatuated. He must have cared a good bit, too. He'll be cashiered, as sure as a gun!”

 

Leaving Sir Howard at the Manor², we had joined Inspector Wessex at a spot where the baronet's preserves bordered a narrow lane. Here the ground was soft, and the detective drew Harley's attention to a number of footprints by a stile.

 

“I've got evidence that he was seen here with the girl on other occasions. Now, Mr. Harley, I'll ask you to look over these footprints.”

 

Harley dropped to his knees and made a brief but close examination of the ground round about. One particularly clear imprint³ of a pointed⁴ toe he noticed especially; and Wessex, diving into the pocket of his light overcoat, produced a patent-leather shoe, such as is used for evening wear.

 

“He had a spare pair in his bag,” he explained nonchalantly, “and his man did not prove incorruptible!”

 

Harley took the shoe and placed it in the impression. It fitted perfectly⁵!

 

“This is Molly Clayton, I take it?” he said, indicating the prints of a woman's foot.

 

“Yes,” assented⁶ Wessex. “You'll notice that they stood for some little time and then walked off, very close together.”

 

Harley nodded absently.

 

“We lose them along here,” continued Wessex, leading up the lane; “but at the corner by the big haystack they join up with the tracks of a motor-car! I ask for nothing clearer! There was rain that afternoon, but there's been none since.”

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