"Don't you believe 'im," said Mr. Collop firmly. "What I say is, no cross scents. What do 'ounds do when they find a cross scent?" Mr. de Bohun would have been only too happy to tell him, but he had never hunted. "Why, they miss the right one. That's wot they do. And do they catch the fox? No. A thousand times, no! Now," said he, again tapping that palm of his with that forefinger of his. "You mark! Forget all about Lord Galton. It's servant's romancing. I told you I already 'ad one clue. And 'ere I've gone and got _another_ clue! An' they both fit in.... And now," he added peculiarly, gazing out of the window as though he would admire the wintry morning with its clear scintillating skies, "I'd have you note another clue. Look there," he said--and with the gesture of Hannibal pointing out the plains of Italy, Mr. Collop extended his left arm and directed his somewhat too thick forefinger towards the avenue and the sheets of snow on either side of the great gravel walk. "What have we there?" he said. De Bohun, weary after his sleepless night, had to get up again from his chair and look where he was bidden. "I ... I don't see anything, Mr. Collop," he said. "No," said Mr. Collop indulgently. "You wouldn't. It wants a trained eye. Now, you'll excuse me, sir, but if you 'ad been in the Yard as I 'ave, and as long as I 'ave, you'd see something. It's only a fine indication, like, but your mind would leap to it. At least mine 'as. Do you notice any marks on that snow?" Mr. de Bohun honestly said he could not--nor could any man have seen any from where he stood. "I certainly see no footprints," he said. "Footprints o' wot?" answered Mr. Collop. "Footprints o' 'uman beings? Man and woman? Leastways boots? Nah!" and he shook his head. "You want ... you want your eyes better skinned than that in our trade, if you'll excuse me saying it. Shall I _tell_ you what's there? I can see it." His host was justly irritated. "Well, I can't," he exploded. "What _is_ there?" Mr. Collop leant over, made a shell of his hand and whispered in a voice to wake the dead: "Footprints of a fowl! Leastways," he added hurriedly, "not a domestic fowl, I mean. But a bird. A bird's been there!" he added, nodding solemnly. "Well, what of it?" said the last of the de Bohuns, still more irritated. "Ah! You'll see!" said Mr. Collop, in a tone of great equality. He stepped back, pulled his waistcoat down over his paunch, passed his hand cavalierly over his abominable moustache, and gave an order--as though he were master--for he now felt himself securely in the saddle. "Summon 'em here," he said, with a large wave of his right hand, "summon 'em all. It's accomplished!" "Summon who?" "Me feller guests," said Mr. Collop. "They shall witness the _daynoumong_ and their souls shall be eased." "Mr. Collop," said the harassed Home Secretary, "what need is there for this?" "Witnesses! Mr. Dee Boe Hun!" royally. "Record! You'll be astonished."