Neither man uttered a word. They looked at the rock under their feet, at the surrounding trees, oak and ash, elm and larch, all of mature growth, and towering thirty to forty feet above their heads, while the rock itself rose some twelve feet from the general level of the sloping ground. Bates was watching them. "The fact is, gentlemen, that if an oak an' a couple o' spruce first hadn't been cut down you wouldn't see the house even from where you are," he said. "Mr. Fenley had an idee of buildin' a shelter on this rock, but he let it alone 'coss o' the birds. Ladies would be comin' here, an' a-disturbin' of 'em." The detectives came down. Furneaux, meaning to put the Inspector in the right frame of mind, said confidentially-- "Brodie saw me instantly." "Did he, now? It follows that he would have seen any one who fired at Mr. Fenley from that spot." "It almost follows. We must guard against assuming a chance as a certainty." "Oh, yes." "And we must also try to avoid fitting facts into preconceived notions. Now, while the butler is gathering old boots, let us spend a few profitable minutes in this locality." After that, any trace of soreness in the inspectorial breast was completely obliterated. Both Winter and Furneaux produced strong magnifying-glasses, and scrutinized the scratches and impressions on the bare rock and moss. Bates, skilled in wood lore, was quick to note what they had discerned at a glance. "Beg pardon, gentlemen both, but may I put in a word?" he muttered awkwardly. "As many as you like," Winter assured him. "Well, these here marks was made by Farrow an' meself, say about ten forty, or a trifle over an hour after the murder; an' I have no sort o' doubt as these other marks are a day or two days older." "You might even put it at three days," agreed Winter. "Then it follows----" began the Inspector, but checked himself. He was becoming slightly mixed as to the exact sequence of events. "Come, now, Bates," said Furneaux, "you can tell us the day Mr. Robert Fenley left home recently? There is no harm in mentioning his name. It can't help being in our thoughts, since it was discovered that his gun was missing." "He went off on a motor bicycle last Saturday mornin', sir." "Can you fix the hour?" "About half past ten." "You have not seen him since?" "No, sir." "You would be likely to know if he had returned?" "Certain, sir, unless he kem by the Roxton gate." "Oh, is there another entrance?" "Yes, but it can't be used, 'cept by people on foot. The big gates are always locked, and the road has been grassed over, an' not so many folk know of a right of way. Of course, Mr. Robert knows." Bates was disturbed. He expected to be cross-examined farther, but, to his manifest relief, the ordeal was postponed. Winter and Furneaux commenced a careful scrutiny of the ground behind the rock. They struck off on different paths, but came together at a little distance. "The trees," murmured Winter.