to the ground and began
peering at the footprints in the soft earth through a magnifying glass.

"I don't think, Miss Duggan--it's a policeman's business to _know_," he
retorted; and then set about his task, while those others in the fateful
room crowded about the open window and stood looking down at him with
blank, unhappy faces.

Carefully he measured their length with his little foot-rule and noted
the size down in his pocketbook. Then he fitted one of his own slim feet
into the indentation, saw that it was rather larger and broader, stepped
back upon the courtyard and faced them, all clustering about him, with
serene countenance.

"A fair-sized boot, ladies and gentlemen," he remarked; "quite a
fair-sized boot! Number tens, if I know anything of sizes. And looks
like hunting-boots, too. Evidently a chap who rides. Now, this Captain
Macdonald, Lady Paula----"

"One of the finest horsemen in the country," she returned, with a
shrugging of shoulders and an uplifting of brows.

"Ah! Just so. That was what I imagined when I saw--when I encountered
him here in these grounds last night. Light of foot, and the proper
build, too. He'll no doubt be along in the course of another three
quarters of an hour (if Jameson doesn't have a dickens of a job locating
him), so in the meanwhile, if Mr. Narkom is willing, we'll take a little
turn together and talk over things, and then come back to you here in
the allotted time. Willing, Mr. Narkom?"

"Perfectly willing."

And so it came about that, arm in arm, the two friends went off together
down by the wide driveway that led to the great doors of wrought-iron
which Rhea so ably guarded, and Cleek, stopping in the pathway, pointed
up to the statue etched out against the sky in sinister outline, and
told Mr. Narkom the story of it.

"Cinnamon! But what a magnificent thing it is!" ejaculated that
gentleman with awe, when the tale was finished. "That's something to be
proud of--eh, old chap? Now, if I had a fellow like that for an ancestor
there'd be no living with me at all! These old families!--there's
certainly something in this thing they call Birth and Race--though for
the life of me I never can make it out."

"No," thought Cleek, with a smile, "you wouldn't." But he said nothing,
merely passed on toward the iron gates, and seeing that they had been
left ajar, clanged them to sharply behind them.

"He'll ring his great bell when the latch falls--that's his ceremonious
w