Professor Fordney smiled as Reynolds made a wry face.
‘We found him lying against a boulder about ten feet from the bottom of a fifty-foot embankment of solid rock. While there were no traces of the path of his fall, the concrete road directly above him was stained with blood. I don’t know why people insist on walking along the highway.
‘That’s such a bad curve right there. I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out who struck him. And then, it’s possible for someone to have hit him without knowing it. And I believe the car that did stopped and the driver seeing how badly he was hurt, in fear, drove on.’
‘What makes you think that, Reynolds?’
‘There are tracks of a car skidding along the shoulder of the road, and footprints in the blood where the fellow dropped on the pavement. I suppose the poor old man regained consciousness, staggered to his feet, and rolled down the embankment. That finished him. Ugh—it was a messy affair!’
‘Who is he?’
‘We’re not sure. The only identification was a small scrap of paper in his pocket with the name Tabor. By a queer coincidence there was a large T deeply cut in the blood-stained boulder which stopped his fall.’
‘No doubt, Sergeant, the murderers intended you should take exactly the inference you have, but don’t you see t____ w__ n_ b____ b______ t__ r___ a__ t__ b______?’
[What did the Professor tell Reynolds?]