When the servant had left, Brett detailed his proposed test. He and Hume would go into the hotel garden, after donning overcoats and deer-stalker hats, for Hume told him that both his cousin and he himself had worn that style of headgear.
They would stand, with their faces hidden, beneath the trees, and Winter was to bring the poacher towards them, after asking him to pick out the man who most resembled the person he had seen standing in the avenue at Beechcroft.
The test was most successful. “Rabbit Jack” instantly selected Hume.
“It’s either the chap hisself or his dead spit,” was the poacher’s dictum.
Then he was cautioned to keep his own counsel as to the incident, and he went away to get gloriously drunk on half-a-sovereign.
In the seclusion of the sitting-room, Winter related the outcome of his inquiries. They were negative.
Landlords and barmaids remembered a few commercial travellers by referring to old lodgers, but they one and all united in the opinion that New Year’s Eve was a most unlikely time for the hotels to contain casual visitors.
“I was afraid it would be a wild-goose chase from the start,” opined Winter.
“Obviously,” replied Brett; “yet ten minutes ago you produced a man who actually watched the murderer for a considerable time that night.”
Whilst Winter was searching his wits for a suitable argument, the barrister continued: