the pads to
cover his feet; and an under gardener remembers seeing Mr. Hilton
making off with an empty potato sack one day last week, and wondering
why he wanted it. During some mornings recently Hilton Fenley
breakfasted early and went out, but invariably had an excuse for not
accompanying his father to the City. He was then studying the details
of the crime, making sure that an expert, armed with a modern rifle,
could not possibly miss such a target as a man standing outside a
doorway, and elevated above the ground level by some five feet or
more.

"No servant could possibly observe that Mr. Hilton was wearing Mr.
Robert's boots, because they do not differ greatly in size; but
luckily for us, a criminal always commits an error of some sort, and
Hilton blundered badly when he made those careful imprints of his
brother's feet, as the weather has been fine recently, and the only
mud in this locality lies in that hollow of the Quarry Wood. It
happens that some particles of that identical mud were imbedded in the
carpet of Hilton Fenley's sitting-room. I'm sorry to have to say it,
because the housemaid is a nice girl."

"Never mind the housemaid. Go on."

"Exactly what the housemaid would remark if she heard me; only she
would giggle, and you look infernally serious. Next item: Hilton
Fenley, like most high-class scoundrels, has the nerves of a cat, with
all a cat's fiendish brutality. He could plan and carry out a callous
crime and lay a subtle trail which must lead to that cry baby, Robert,
but he was unable to control his emotions when he saw his father's
corpse. That is where the murderer nearly always fails. He can never
picture in death that which he hated and doomed in life. There is an
element in death----"

"Chuck it!" said Winter unfeelingly.

Furneaux winced, and affected to be deeply hurt.

"The worst feature of service in Scotland Yard is its demoralizing
effect on the finer sentiments," he said sadly. "Men lose all human
instincts when they become detectives or newspaper reporters. Now the
ordinary policeman ofttimes remains quite soft-hearted. For instance,
Police Constable Farrow, though preening himself on being the pivot on
which this case revolves, was much affected by Hilton Fenley's first
heart-broken words to him. 'Poor young gentleman,' said Farrow, when
we were discussing the affair this afternoon, 'he was cut up somethink
orful. I didn't think he had it in him, s'elp me, I didn't. Tole me t