A stone bridge led across the moat from this (called the Middle Tower) to another and larger tower, with circular bastions, whose arch formed the entrance to the outer walls.
Grey-black, picked out with whitish stones, these heavy defences ran left and right; but the damp mist was so thick that the entrance was entirely invisible.
Just under the arch of this next tower, another figure appeared with the same eerie suddenness as the others: a thick, rather short man with a straight back, his hands thrust into the pockets of a dripping waterproof. A soft hat was drawn down on his brows. He came forward, peering, as he heard their muffled footfalls on the road.
He said: `Good God, Bitton! How did you get here?' Then he hurried up to grasp Sir William's hand.
`Never mind,' Sir William answered, stolidly. 'Thanks, Mason. Where have you got him?'
The other man looked into his face. He wore a gingery moustache and imperial, drooping with the damp there were furrows in his dull-coloured face and lines round his hard, bright unwinking eyes.
'Good man!' he said releasing his hand. `This is?'
'Chief Inspector Hadley. Dr Fell. Mr Rampole… General Mason,' explained Sir William, jerking his head. 'Where is he, Mason? I want to see him.'
General Mason took his arm. 'You understand; of course, that we couldn't disturb the body until the police arrived. He's where we found him. That's correct, isn't it, Mr Hadley?'
'Quite correct, General. If you will show us the place…? Thank you. I'm afraid we shall have to leave him there, though, until the police surgeon examines him.'