We were standing in the garden at a point near to my open study window. A small flower-bed intervened between the path and the high privet hedge. It lay much in shade, and Coates had set tobacco plants there. But the soil was softer here than elsewhere. Clearly marked upon it were the imprints of little high-heeled shoes. "It seems to take us back to the days of 'Spring-heeled Jack,'" my friend continued; "which was before my time! I don't think _that_ mystery was ever cleared up?" "No," I replied, meeting his questioning glance; "it never was, satisfactorily. Therefore the analogy is an unfortunate one. But as you say, it certainly looks as though my visitor had sprung across a six-foot hedge!" "It's absolutely mad," said Gatton gloomily. "Far from helping us, it only plunges us deeper in the mire." We returned to the study, and: "You will have seen the daily papers?" asked the Inspector. I nodded. "Practically all of them. They give a hateful prominence to the name of Miss Merlin." "And to that of the new baronet--Sir Eric," said Gatton significantly. I stared at him straightly. "Do you seriously believe," said I, "that Eric Coverly had anything whatever to do with the death of his cousin?" Gatton stirred uneasily in his chair. "Well," he answered, "ignoring everything else for the moment, who else benefits by Sir Marcus Coverly's death?" It was a poser--a question which I had dreaded because I had known it to be unanswerable. "He inherits the title," continued Gatton, "and on the death of Lady Burnham Coverly he inherits Friars' Park. There is some clause or entail, or legal hotchpotch whereby the estate and revenue remain hers during her lifetime." "But I understand the estate is mortgaged?" "That I have to confirm, Mr. Addison," replied Gatton. "Sir Eric's solicitor has no information on the point and that of Sir Marcus's man of business is inexact. But even supposing that only the title is concerned, many a man has lost his life for less. Then you have to consider--Miss Merlin." "In what way?" I demanded "In relation to the attitude of Sir Marcus. Jealousy makes men (and women) do strange and desperate things. The character of Eric Coverly, the new baronet, is a very odd one." "He is headstrong and in some respects weak," I admitted. "But otherwise he is an ordinary English gentleman, with the traditions of an old name and a public school to back him up. I tell you, Gatton, it's nonsense. His army career alone shows him to be a sound man." "Yes," murmured Gatton; "he was awarded a decoration for distinguished service in Egypt." That seemingly simple remark struck me with all the force of a physical blow. Gatton began quietly to load his pipe, without even glancing in my direction; but the covert significance of his words was all too apparent: "Gatton," I said--"what the devil are you driving at?" He slightly shrugged his shoulders.