The Layton Court Mystery by Anthony Berkeley Contents I. Eight o’Clock in the Morning II. An Interrupted Breakfast III. Mr. Sheringham is Puzzled IV. Major Jefferson is Reluctant V. Mr. Sheringham Asks a Question VI. Four People Behave Remarkably VII. The Vase That Wasn’t VIII. Mr. Sheringham Becomes Startling IX. Mr. Sheringham Sees Visions X. Mrs. Plant is Apprehensive XI. Lady Stanworth Exchanges Glances XII. Hidden Chambers And What-Nots XIII. Mr. Sheringham Investigates a Footprint XIV. Dirty Work at the Ash Pit XV. Mr. Sheringham Amuses an Ancient Rustic XVI. Mr. Sheringham Lectures on Neo-Platonism XVII. Mr. Grierson Becomes Heated XVIII. What the Settee Had to Tell XIX. Mr. Sheringham Loses and Wins the Same Bet XX. Mrs. Plant Proves Disappointing XXI. Mr. Sheringham is Dramatic XXII. Mr. Sheringham Solves the Mystery XXIII. Mrs. Plant Talks XXIV. Mr. Sheringham is Disconcerted XXV. The Mystery Finally Refuses to Accept Mr. Sheringham’s Solution XXVI. Mr. Grierson Tries His Hand XXVII. Mr. Sheringham Hits the Mark XXVIII. What Really Did Happen To my Father My dear Father, I know of nobody who likes a detective story more than you do, with the possible exception of myself. So if I write one and you read it, we ought to be able to amuse ourselves at any rate. I hope you will notice that I have tried to make the gentleman who eventually solves the mystery behave as nearly as possible as he might be expected to do in real life. That is to say, he is very far removed from a sphinx and he does make a mistake or two occasionally. I have never believed very much in those hawk-eyed, tight-lipped gentry, who pursue their silent and inexorable way straight to the heart of things without ever once overbalancing or turning aside after false goals; and I cannot see why even a detective story should not aim at the creation of a natural atmosphere, just as much as any other work of the lighter fiction. In the same way I should like you to observe that I have set down quite plainly every scrap of evidence just as it is discovered, so that the reader has precisely the same data at his disposal as has the detective. This seems to me the only fair way of doing things. To hold up till the last chapter some vital piece of evidence (which, by the way, usually renders the solution of the puzzle perfectly simple), and to achieve your surprise by allowing the detective to arrest his man before the evidence on which he is doing so is ever so much as hinted to the reader at all, is, to my mind, most decidedly not playing the game. With which short homily, I hand the book over to you by way of some very slight return for all that you have done for me. Chapter I Eight o’Clock in the Morning William, the gardener at Layton Court, was a man of melancholy deliberation.