Leaving her cloak and muddy dinner-dress in my charge, she escaped by the back and away down the garden, expressing her intention of returning to the Hall as though she had only been out an hour for a morning walk, as was so frequently her habit. She had thanked me fervently for my assistance, and in doing so uttered a sentence that struck me as remarkably strange, knowing what I did. "You have saved me, Willoughby. You can save my life, if you will." "I will," was my earnest reply. "You know my secret," I added, raising her fingers to my hot passionate lips before we parted. She made no mention of the tragedy, and what, indeed, could I remark? My journey to London I was compelled to postpone in view of what had occurred. She had not referred to it, and to tell the truth I felt that my presence beside her just then was of greater need. Thus, after awaiting my housekeeper's return in order to preserve appearances, I ate my breakfast with the air of a man entirely undisturbed. Just before nine the doctor came in, ruddy and well-shaven, and throwing himself into an armchair exclaimed-- "You didn't keep your promise! I called and found nobody at home. You were out." "I'd gone down the village," I explained. "Well, I've been up into the park with the police. They've sent that blundering fool Redway--worse than useless! We've been over the ground, but there's so many footprints that it's impossible to distinguish any-- save one." "And what's that?" "Well, strangely enough, my dear fellow, it's a woman's." "A woman's!" I gasped, for I saw that all my work had been in vain and in my hurry I must have unfortunately overlooked one. "Yes, it's the print of a woman's slipper with a French heel--not the kind of shoe usually worn in Sibberton," remarked the doctor. "Funny, isn't it?" "Very," I agreed with a sickly feeling. "What do the police think?" "Redway means to take a plaster cast of it--says it's an important clue. Got a cigarette?" I pushed the box before him, with sinking heart, and at the same time invited him to the table to have breakfast, for I had not yet finished. "Breakfast!" he cried. "Why, I had mine at six, and am almost ready for lunch. I'm an early bird, you know." It was true. He had cultivated the habit of early rising by going cub-hunting with the Stanchester hounds, and it was his boast that he never breakfasted later than six either summer or winter. "Did they find anything else?" I inquired, fearing at the same time to betray any undue curiosity. "Found a lot of marks of men's boots, but they might have been ours," he answered in his bluff way as he lit his cigarette. "My theory is that the mark of the woman's shoe is a very strong clue. Some woman knows all about it--that's very certain, and she's a person who wears thin French shoes, size three." "Does Redway say that?"