The Scotland Yard experts were so obviously impressed that the Inspector tried a higher flight.
"They're a man's boots," he continued. "We needn't have worried Tomlinson to gather the maids' footgear."
Furneaux left two neat imprints in the damp soil.
"Bet you a penny whistle there are at least two women in The Towers who will make bigger blobs than these," he said.
A penny whistle, as a wager, is what Police Constable Farrow would term "unusual."
"Quite so," said the Inspector thoughtfully.
Winter caught Furneaux's eye, and frowned. There was nothing to be gained by taking a rise out of the local constabulary. Still, he gave one sharp glance at both sets of footprints. Then he looked at Furneaux again, this time with a smile.
The party passed on to the rock on the higher ground. Bates pointed out the old scratches, and those made by Farrow and himself.
"Me first!" cried Furneaux, darting nimbly to the summit. He was not there a second before he signaled to some one invisible from beneath. Winter joined him, and the east front of the house burst into view. Brodie was in the act of descending from the car. The doctor had gone. A small group of men were gazing at the wood, but Hilton Fenley and Sylvia Manning were not to be seen.