“Just so,” remarked Birts. “It’s a large place and plenty of rabbit-holes and the like in the woods.” “When I was down at lunch, where were you, Birts?” “I was here all the time till Fairlie came about that window, and then here again after that.” “Any one come downstairs?” “No, sir.” “Well, as you say, it’s a big place.” Humblethorne relapsed into silence which remained unbroken for a few moments, each man pursuing his own train of thought. “I was thinking, if you agreed, sir,” said Birts at last, “of making inquiries in the village and neighbourhood this evening.” “Quite unnecessary; and, besides, I want you here.” Birts stared at him in deep astonishment and Humblethorne allowed himself the gratification of watching him with a little smile. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said Birts at length. “Unnecessary—does that mean you’ve traced him? And what can I do here?” “I want you to stay here to-night,” repeated Humblethorne. “You have a man with the body too, haven’t you? Well, I want one of you to remain on duty all the time and make sure that nobody leaves the house without your knowing all about it. I may be quite wrong, but I think there’s some one in this house with a pair of shoes and a guilty conscience to dispose of, and I don’t want that done without our knowing all about it. See?” Birts struggled manfully to appear as if he saw, but he was too full of curiosity to conceal it. “I see, sir,” he said, “of course exactly what you want me to do, but I can’t say as I quite follow what you have in your mind. When you say inquiries are unnecessary do you mean as you know who did it?” Humblethorne paused. It was a pleasant moment for him, and he consciously prolonged it. At last, leaning back in his chair, he answered the eager question. “Yes, I know,” he said. “I know in spite of what has been done since to prevent my knowing. It only remains to put my hand on him.” “Oh!” Astonishment at the beginning of the sentence mingled with disappointment at its conclusion. “But you know him?” Birts went on. “Who is he? I’ll find him for you all right. I know every one about here.” “All in good time,” replied Humblethorne, who was willing to gratify the sergeant’s curiosity to a certain extent, but had received too evident a proof of his lack of ability to confide in him unduly at this stage. “If you want to know, he’s a youngish man, clean-shaven, rather over six foot I should say, thin, has blue eyes, and fairly dark brown hair a little grey above the ears.” It was not quite fair of Humblethorne; he was a _poseur_ and he knew it. He was ascribing to his own cleverness what was really due entirely to his luck, but the astonished admiration of Birts was an incitement he could not resist. “You’re laughing at me, sir?” exclaimed the sergeant. “You can’t have found out all that this afternoon; it beats reason. And it isn’t as if you lived in these parts and knew every one.”