ed back some gibe; the presence of strangers
enforced respect to his chief. He took a thin folding rule of aluminum
from a waistcoat pocket, and applied it to the most clearly defined of
the three footprints. Then beginning at the "house" basket, he ran
over the contents rapidly. One pair of boots he set aside. After
testing the "estate" basket without success, he seized one of the
selected pair, and pressed it into the earth close to an original
print. He looked up at Tomlinson, who was in a violent perspiration.

"Whose boot is this?" he asked.

"God help us, sir, it's Mr. Robert's!" said Tomlinson in an agonized
tone.

The Inspector, Farrow and Bates were visibly thrilled; but Furneaux
only sank back on his heels, and peered at the boot.

"I don't understand why any one should feel upset because these
footprints (which, by the way, were not made by this pair of boots)
happen to resemble marks which may have been made by Mr. Robert
Fenley," he said, apparently talking to himself. "These marks are
three or four days old. Mr. Robert Fenley went away on Saturday. Today
is Wednesday. He may have been here on Saturday morning. What does it
matter if he was? The man who murdered his father must have been here
two hours ago."

Sensation! Tomlinson mopped his forehead with a handkerchief already a
wet rag; Farrow, not daring to interfere, nibbled his chin strap;
Bates scowled with relief. But the Inspector, after a husky cough,
spoke.

"Would you mind telling me, Mr. Furneaux, why you are so sure?" he
said.

"Now, Professor Bates, you tell him," cackled Furneaux.

The keeper dropped on his knees by the side of the detective, and
gazed critically at the marks.

"At this time o' year, gentlemen, things do grow wonderful," he said
slowly. "In this sort o' ground, where there's wet an' shade, there's
a kind o' constant movement. This here new print is clean, an' the
broken grass an' crushed leaves haven't had time to straighten
themselves, as one might say. But, in this other lot, the shoots are
commencin' to perk up, an' insec's have stirred the mold. It's just
the difference atween a new run for rabbits and an old 'un."

"Thank you, Bates," broke in Winter sharply. "Now, we must not waste
any more time in demonstrations. Mr. Furneaux explained this thing
purposely, to show the folly of jumping at conclusions. Innocent men
have been hanged before today on just such evidence as this. We
should deem ourselves lucky t