The pond to which the sergeant alluded had evidently extended at one time right across the path, but now, thanks to the dry weather, a narrow isthmus of half-dried mud traversed the morass, and along this Mr. Draper proceeded to pick his way.  The sergeant was about to follow, when suddenly he stopped short with his eyes riveted upon the muddy track.  A single glance showed me the cause of his surprise, for on the stiff, putty-like surface, standing out with the sharp distinctness of a wax mould, were the fresh footprints of the man who had just passed, each footprint displaying on its sole the impression of stud-nails arranged in a diamond-shaped pattern, and on its heel a group of similar nails arranged in a cross.

The sergeant hesitated for only a moment, in which he turned a quick startled glance upon us; then he followed, walking gingerly along the edge of the path as if to avoid treading in his predecessor’s footprints.  Instinctively we did the same, following closely, and anxiously awaiting the next development of the tragedy.  For a minute or two we all proceeded in silence, the sergeant being evidently at a loss how to act, and Mr. Draper busy with his own thoughts.  At length the former spoke.

“You think, Mr. Draper, you would rather that I looked in on you to-morrow about this affair?”

“Much rather, if you wouldn’t mind,” was the eager reply.

“Then, in that case,” said the sergeant, looking at his watch, “as I’ve got a good deal to see to this evening, I’ll leave you here, and make my way to the station.”

With a farewell flourish of his hand he climbed over a stile, and when, a few moments later, I caught a glimpse of him through an opening in the hedge, he was running across the meadow like a hare.

The departure of the police-officer was apparently a great relief to Mr. Draper, who at once fell back and began to talk with us.

“You are Dr. Jervis, I think,” said he.  “I saw you coming out of Dr. Cooper’s house yesterday.  We know everything that is happening in the village, you see.”  He laughed nervously, and added:  “But I don’t know your friend.”

I introduced Thorndyke, at the mention of whose name our new acquaintance knitted his brows, and glanced inquisitively at my friend.

“Thorndyke,” he repeated; “the name seems familiar to me.  Are you in the Law, sir?”

Thorndyke admitted the impeachment, and our companion, having again bestowed on him a look full of curiosity, continued:  “This horrible affair will interest you, no doubt, from a professional point of view.  You were present when my poor friend’s body was found, I think?”

“No,” replied Thorndyke; “we came up afterwards, when they were removing it.”

Our companion then proceeded to question as about the murder, but received from Thorndyke only the most general and ambiguous replies.  Nor was there time to go into the matter at length, for the footpath presently emerged on to the road close to Mr. Draper’s house.