It looked as if the owner had originally demanded comfort of his architect and made no stipulation as to beauty, beyond, indeed, the adornment of pretentious towers at either end; it was a rambling, irregular building with a large gravel space before the heavy door which was set nearly in the centre of the house. On the right-hand side clumps of rhododendrons, abutting on the gravel, shut off the drive as it went on to the back entrance; on the left a large expanse of lawn stretched away, broken up near the house by a few flower-beds. A gravel path cut the lawn round the house, leaving only room for a strip of grass and for a narrow flower-bed from which grew ivy of no great age and Virginian creeper. So much Humblethorne noted whilst walking up—a house not difficult of access, he decided, if, as seemed likely, the lawn and path ran on round to the left in front of the south aspect. He rang the bell and waited. After an interval he was just about to ring again when the door was suddenly opened by a large individual in sergeant’s uniform who ran his eyes aggressively over the visitor and inquired: “What might you be wanting?” “Am I speaking to Sergeant Birts?” asked Humblethorne pleasantly. “That’s my name. Who are you?” “I am Inspector Humblethorne; possibly you have heard of me,” he handed over a card as he spoke, which the sergeant took with no very good grace. “You’re early on the field, sir,” he said at length. “How on earth did you hear of the case so soon?” Humblethorne looked at him closely a moment and allowed the dream he had pleased himself with spinning as he walked up to vanish. “I am staying at the Rose and Crown,” he said; “and so could hardly do otherwise than make it my business to assist you. I inquired at the station and they told me you were here, as I expected; so I came up at once. I need hardly say, sergeant, that I shall see you get full credit for any success which may attend our efforts; I know so well what it means to a man to have an important case at last.” The sergeant’s face brightened instantly. “It’s very good of you to say so, sir,” he said, heartily. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sorry you’re here.” He paused and then added with professional impressiveness, “it’s a case, sir. Of course I’ve only had time to make a few preliminary inquiries, but there isn’t a clue of any sort; in fact, I think you’ll admit it has some curious features. But come in.” “I never knew a case yet without a clue of some sort, but whether there’s one that leads to anything is another matter,” Humblethorne replied as he stepped through the door and found himself in the large hall of the house. He then stood, without going further, familiarizing his eyes with the surroundings, according to his invariable rule.