“The weather has been very dry, unfortunately,” Hewitt said, “and it would be useless for me to look for footprints on your hard gravel, especially of so small a child. Let us come back to the room. Is the French window fastened as you found it?” “Yes; nothing has been changed.” The French window was, as is usual, one of two casements joining in the centre and fastened by bolts top and bottom. “It is not your habit, I see,” Hewitt observed, “to open both halves of the window.” “No; one side is always fastened, the other we secure by the bottom bolt because the catch of the handle doesn’t always act properly.” “And you found that bolt fastened as I see it now?” “Yes.” Hewitt lifted the bolt and opened the door. Four or five steps led parallel with the face of the wall to a sort of path which ran the whole length of the house on this side, and was only separated from a quiet public lane by a low fence and a thin hedge. Almost opposite a small, light gate stood in the fence, firmly padlocked. “I see,” Hewitt remarked, “your house is placed close against one side of the grounds. Is that the side gate which you always keep locked?” Mrs. Seton replied in the affirmative, and Hewitt laid his hand on the gate in question. “Still,” he said, “if security is the object I should recommend hinges a little less rural in pattern; see here,” and he gave the gate a jerk upward, lifting the hinge-pins from their sockets and opening the gate from that side, the padlock acting as hinge. “Those hinges,” he added, “were meant for a heavier gate than that;” and he replaced the gate. [Illustration: “‘THOSE HINGES WERE MEANT FOR A HEAVIER GATE THAN THAT.’”] “Yes,” Mrs. Seton replied; “I am obliged to you; but that doesn’t concern us now. The French window was bolted on the inside. Would you like to see the servants?” The servants were produced, and Hewitt questioned each in turn, but not one would admit having seen anything of Master Charles Seton after he had been left in the small morning-room. A rather stupid groom fancied he had seen Master Charles on the side lawn, but then remembered that that must have been the day before. The cook, an uncommonly thin, sharp-featured woman for one of her trade, was especially positive that she had not seen him all that day. “And she would be sure to have remembered if she had seen him leaving the house,” she said, “because she was the more particular since he was lost the last time.” This was news to Hewitt. “Lost the last time?” he asked; “why, what is this, Mrs. Seton? Was he lost once before?” “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Seton answered, “six or seven weeks ago. But that was quite different. He strayed out at the front gate, and was brought back from the police station in the evening.” “But this may be most important,” Hewitt said. “You should certainly have told me. Tell me now exactly what happened on this first occasion.”