“What are those?” he asked, pointing to two oblong impressions brimming with water which disfigured the center of this small plot.

“They look like footprints,” ventured Ransom.

“They are footprints,” decided Mr. Harper as they stooped to examine the marks, “and the footprints of a person dropping from a height.  Nothing else explains their depth or general appearance.”

“Couldn’t they be those of a person approaching the ell to converse with some one above?  I see others similar to these in the open place over there beyond the kitchen door.”

“It is a trail.  Let us follow it.  It seems to lead anywhere but towards the waterfall.  This is an important discovery, Mr. Ransom, and may lead to conclusions such as we might not otherwise have presumed to entertain, especially if we come upon an impression clear enough to point in which direction the person making it was going.”

“Here is what you want,” Ransom assured him in a low and curiously smothered voice.  He was evidently greatly excited by this result of their inquiries, for all his apparent quiet and precise movements.  “It’s a woman’s step, and that woman was going from the ell when she left these tokens of her passage behind her.  Going! and as you say not in the direction of the waterfall.”

“Hush!  I see some one at the kitchen window.  Let us move warily and be sure not to confound these prints with those of any other person.  It looks as if a great many people had passed here.”

“Yes, this is the way to the chicken-coops and out-houses.  But in the ground beyond I think I see a single line of steps again,—­small steps like these.  Where can they be leading?  They are deep like those of a person running.”

“And straggling, like those of a person running in the dark.  See how they waver from the direct line down there, turn, and almost come up against that wood-pile!  Whose steps are these?  Whose, Mr. Harper?  Quick!  I must see where they go.  Our time will not be lost.  The key to the labyrinth is in our hands.”

The lawyer was in the rear and the eyes of the other were fixed far ahead.  For this reason, perhaps, the former allowed himself a quiet shake of the head, which might not have encouraged the other so very much, had he caught sight of it.  They were now on the verge of the garden, or what would soon be a garden if these rains betokened spring.  A path ran along its edge and in this path the footsteps they were following lost themselves; but they came upon them again among the hillocks of some old potato-hills beyond, and finally traced them quite across the garden waste to a fence, along which they ran, blundering from ploughed earth to spots of smoother ground, and so back again till they came upon an old turn-stile!

Passing through this, the two men stopped and looked about them.  They were in a road ridged with grass and flanked by bushes.  One end ran east into a wooded valley, the other debouched on the highway a few feet to the right of the tavern.