“Somebody slipped on that rug,” commented Carter.
“And when they went out of the room,” added Ranville. “It's dragged over the sill. If they stumbled when they entered the room, it would be lying farther inside the library.”
He bent a second and then fell to his knees, apparently interested in something he found by the sill. Scraping the substance with his knife, which he had taken from his pockets, he rose extending his hand to Bartley.
“It's mud,” he said.
We came closer to observe. There in his hand were a few bits of dried dirt—dirt which evidently had been wet only a short time ago. As Bartley saw it, he reached forth to crumple a piece of it between his fingers. Then he went out on the veranda and down the three steps to the ground. At the bottom step he bent down and then called:
“You will find more of it here.”
On the edge of the bottom step there were unmistakable signs of a muddy shoe. The signs were not plain enough to form a footprint, but one could see that some person in going up the steps must have brushed off the mud from their shoes. Patton gave it one look, then straightened up to say:
“That's not mine. I never went within a mile of any mud.”
Bartley was on the verge of a reply when we heard some one hail us at the bottom of the slight hill. Turning, we saw the chief hurrying across the lawn. His face was red as if he had been running, and when he stopped at our side, he gave us a very wondering look. There was no doubt he was very curious as to why he had been called so suddenly again to the library.
In a few short words Bartley told him of the dead man that was within. His eyes opened wide at the information, and his jaw dropped when Bartley told him it was the gardener who was dead. Then as he started for the house, Bartley's hand went forth and touched his arm: