“Well, I shouldn’t be surprised if he was,” retorted Alan defiantly. “You needn’t laugh. He’s mixed up with ’em all right. Bet you anything you like. I should tell the police if I were you.” “The police!” crowed Mr. Doyle, and staggered as if his mirth were incapable of human control. “The police!” echoed Guy, and staggered too. Alan flushed. “All right. You see! If you won’t tell ’em, I will. Yes, you can laugh if you like, but you’ll jolly soon find I’m right. Huh! Fancy having a clue like that under your noses and never spotting it. Huh!” And with considerable dignity Alan stalked, so well as a slightly stout youth may stalk, towards the road. “Go and ask Mr. Foster if he’s ever broken his nose, Alan,” Mr. Doyle called after him derisively. “All right, blast you, I will!” Master Spence called back. Doyle caught Guy’s arm. “Look, there’s the Colonel and Cottingham coming down the road. Nesbitt, I think this is where we retire.” They did not retire at once, however. They waited till the three actors on their stage met and stopped. The words came faintly to them: “I say, are you the Inspector? I read about you in the _Sunday Courier_. I’m Mrs. Nesbitt’s brother. I say, were you going to have a look at the scene of the crime? I say, have you noticed something jolly important about those footprints? I have. I’ll tell you if you like. I told my brother-in-law, but he laughed. It’s jolly well nothing to laugh about. I say, do you know if that chap Foster’s ever broken his nose?” The two in the garden began to stroll towards George’s house. “He might have been coached for the part,” observed Mr. Doyle with some awe. “He wouldn’t have done it as well if he had been,” murmured Guy. “Doyle, this is all very pleasant and interesting, isn’t it?” They went in to warn Dora that policemen were about. She was not there. To tell the truth, Dora had found herself, except for short minutes during the last thirty-six hours, frankly bored. In addition she was not altogether satisfied with the part she had played in the comedy; it was all right, so far as it went, but it had not gone far enough. She thought she saw a way of combining amusement with a little helpful spadework. Unnoticed, she had slipped out of the house and gone off to combine them. Chapter XIV. Interesting Scene in a Tool-Shed Reginald Foster was surveying his garden. Every morning, when it was fine, Reginald Foster surveyed his garden, and both of them felt the better for it; Mr. Foster, because the garden, which was a large one, stood for his success in life and Mr. Foster liked surveying his successes; the garden, because surely nothing could come under Mr. Foster’s benignant survey and not feel the better for it. Mr. Foster strolled slowly round the neat paths, his podgy hands clasped behind his back, and continued to survey benignly.