Carefully, slowly, I traced these footsteps. They were plainly traceable, faint though they were, to the edge of the low cliff, there a gentle slope of some twelve or fifteen feet in height; I traced them up its incline. But from the very edge of the cliff the land was covered by a thick wire-like turf; you could have run a heavy gun over it without leaving any impression. Yet it was clear that two men had come across it to that point, had then descended the cliff to the sand, walked a few yards along the beach, and then--one had murdered the other. Standing there, staring around me, I was suddenly startled by the explosion of a gun, close at hand. And then, from a coppice, some thirty yards away, a man emerged, whom I took, from his general appearance, to be a gamekeeper. Unconscious of my presence he walked forward in my direction, picked up a bird which his shot had brought down, and was thrusting it into a bag that hung at his hip, when I called to him. He looked round sharply, caught sight of me, and came slowly in my direction, wondering, I could see, who I was. I made towards him. He was a middle-aged, big-framed man, dark of skin and hair, sharp-eyed. "Are you Mr. Raven's gamekeeper?" I asked, as I got within speaking distance. "Just so--I am staying with Mr. Raven. And I've just made a terrible discovery. There is a man lying behind the cliff there--dead." "Dead, sir?" he exclaimed. "What--washed up by the tide, likely." "No," I said. "He's been murdered. Stabbed to death!" He let out a short, sibilant breath, looking at me with rapidly dilating eyes: they ran me all over, as if he wondered whether I were romancing. "Come this way," I continued, leading him to the edge of the cliff. "And mind how you walk on the sand--there are footmarks there, and I don't want them interfered with till the police have examined them. There!" I continued, as we reached the edge of the turf and came in view of the beach. "You see?" He gave another exclamation of surprise: then carefully followed me to the dead man's side where he stood staring wonderingly at the stains on the sand. "He must have been dead for some hours," I whispered. "He's stone-cold--and rigid. Now, this is murder! You live about here, no doubt? Did you see or hear anything of this man in the neighbourhood last night--or in the afternoon or evening?" "I, sir?" he exclaimed. "No, sir--nothing!" "I met him yesterday afternoon on the headlands between this and Alnmouth," I remarked. "I was with him for a while at the Mariner's Joy. He pulled out a big handful of gold there, to pay for his lunch. The landlord warned him against showing so much money. Now, before we do more, I'd like to know if he's been murdered for the sake of robbery. You're doubtless quicker of hand than I am--just slip your hand into that right-hand pocket of his trousers, and see if you feel money there."