"Whoever did this had done the same thing before--probably more than once," he continued. "No man with that cord round his neck, tightly knotted like that, would have a chance--however free his hands might be. He'd be dead before he could struggle. Does no one know anything about this? No more than that?" he went on, when he had heard what Garthwaite could tell. "Well, this is murder, anyway! Are there no signs of anything about here?" "Don't you think his clothing looks as if he had been robbed?" said Brereton, pointing to the obvious signs. "That should be noted before he's moved." "I've noted that, sir," said the police-sergeant, who had bent over the body while the doctor was examining it. "There's one of his pockets turned inside out, and all his clothing's been torn open. Robbery, of course--that's what it's been--murder for the sake of robbery!" One of the policemen, having satisfied his curiosity stepped back and began to search the surroundings with the aid of his lamp. He suddenly uttered a sharp exclamation. "Here's something!" he said, stooping to the foot of a pine-tree and picking up a dark object. "An old pocket-book--nothing in it, though." "That was his," remarked Cotherstone. "I've seen it before. He used to carry it in an inner pocket. Empty, do you say?--no papers?" "Not a scrap of anything," answered the policeman, handing the book over to his sergeant, and proceeding to search further. "We'd best to see if there's any footprints about." "You'd better examine that path, then," said Garthwaite. "You'll find no prints on all this pine-needle stuff--naught to go by, anyway--it's too thick and soft. But he must have come along that path, one way or another--I've met him walking in here of an evening, more than once." The doctor, who had exchanged a word or two with the sergeant, turned to Cotherstone. "Wasn't he a tenant of yours?" he asked. "Had the cottage at the top of the Shawl here. Well, we'd better have the body removed there, and some one should go up and warn his family." "There's no family," answered Cotherstone. "He'd naught but a housekeeper--Miss Pett. She's an elderly woman--and not likely to be startled, from what I've seen of her." "I'll go," said Bent. "I know the housekeeper." He touched Brereton's elbow, and led him away amongst the trees and up the wood. "This is a strange affair!" he continued when they were clear of the others. "Did you hear what Dr. Rockcliffe said?--that whoever had done it was familiar with that sort of thing!"