“The mystery was still further complicated in the earlier hours of the dawn, when a cow-boy, on his way to work, discovered the dead body of Constable Verity on the Beaconsfield side of the lane where Mr. Wentford’s body was found. He had been shot through the heart at close range. No sound of the shot had been heard, but it may be explained that there are very few houses in the neighbourhood, and snow was falling heavily. A carter in the employment of a neighbouring farmer thought he had heard a shot fired much earlier in the evening, but this may be accounted for by the fact that snow was falling so thickly on the railway line, which is situated a mile away, that fog signals were being used. “Chief Detective-Inspector Gaylor has been called in by the Buckinghamshire police, and he is being assisted by Mr. J.G. Reeder, of the Public Prosecutor’s Department. “The time-table, so far as can be ascertained, is as follows:-- “7.0. Constable Verity left police station on patrol. “9.14. Constable Verity discovers the dead body of Mr. Wentford. “9.15. Mr. Enward and his clerk drive up by motor-car, and are stopped by the constable, who rides into Beaconsfield for assistance. “6.45 am. The body of Constable Verity is found shot dead 120 yards north of where the body of Mr. Wentford was found.” Mr. Kingfether, the sub-manager of the Beaconsfield branch of the Great Central Bank, read this account and was rightly agitated. He got to the bank very early that morning, for he had a letter to write, and his managerial office gave him the privacy he required. He was a serious man, with serious-looking spectacles on a pale, plump face. He had a little black moustache and his cheeks and chin were invariably blue, for he had what barbers call a “strong beard.” The newspapers arrived as he was writing. They were pushed under the closed outer door of the bank, and, being at the moment stuck for the alternative to an often reiterated term of endearment, he rose and brought the newspapers into the office, put a new coal on the fire and sat down to glance through them. There were two papers, one financial and one human. He read the latter first, and there was the murder in detail, though it had only occurred the night before. The discovery of the constable’s body was not described, because it had not been discovered when the paper went to press. He read and re-read, his mind in a whirl, and then he took the telephone and called Mr. Enward. That gentleman was also in his office that snowy morning, though the hour was eight. “Good morning, Kingfether… Yes, yes, it’s true.… I was practically a witness--they’ve found the poor policeman… dead… yes, murdered… yes, shot.… I was the last person to speak to him. Dreadful, dreadful, dreadful! That such horrors can be--I say that such horrors can be.… I said that such… What’s the matter with your phone? He banks with you? Really? Really? I’ll come over and talk with you…”