as in the garden.

"Can you remember, Ames, what Mr. Barker had on his feet last night
when you joined him in the study?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. He had a pair of bedroom slippers. I brought him his
boots when he went for the police."

"Where are the slippers now?"

"They are still under the chair in the hall."

"Very good, Ames. It is, of course, important for us to know which
tracks may be Mr. Barker's and which from outside."

"Yes, sir. I may say that I noticed that the slippers were stained with
blood--so indeed were my own."

"That is natural enough, considering the condition of the room. Very
good, Ames. We will ring if we want you."

A few minutes later we were in the study. Holmes had brought with him
the carpet slippers from the hall. As Ames had observed, the soles of
both were dark with blood.

"Strange!" murmured Holmes, as he stood in the light of the window and
examined them minutely. "Very strange indeed!"

Stooping with one of his quick feline pounces, he placed the slipper
upon the blood mark on the sill. It exactly corresponded. He smiled in
silence at his colleagues.

The inspector was transfigured with excitement. His native accent
rattled like a stick upon railings.

"Man," he cried, "there's not a doubt of it! Barker has just marked the
window himself. It's a good deal broader than any bootmark. I mind that
you said it was a splay-foot, and here's the explanation. But what's
the game, Mr. Holmes--what's the game?"

"Ay, what's the game?" my friend repeated thoughtfully.

White Mason chuckled and rubbed his fat hands together in his
professional satisfaction. "I said it was a snorter!" he cried. "And a
real snorter it is!"

Chapter 6

A Dawning Light

The three detectives had many matters of detail into which to inquire;
so I returned alone to our modest quarters at the village inn. But
before doing so I took a stroll in the curious old-world garden which
flanked the house. Rows of very ancient yew trees cut into strange
designs girded it round. Inside was a beautiful stretch of lawn with an
old sundial in the middle, the whole effect so soothing and restful
that it was welcome to my somewhat jangled nerves.

In that deeply peaceful atmosphere one could forget, or remember only
as some fantastic nightmare, that darkened study with the sprawling,
bloodstained figure on the floor. And yet, as I strolled round it and
tried to steep my soul in its gentle balm, a strange incident