"It is spilled all over the floor. I wondered whether you had happened to tread in it. But you say you found no paint on your shoes this morning?"
"No, sir, my bicycle is always quite near the door of the shed. I didn't go into the shed at all."
"I see. Quite so. Thank you, Adair. Oh, by the way, Adair, where does Markby live?"
"I forget the name of his cottage, sir, but I could show you in a second. It's one of those cottages just past the school gates, on the right as you turn out into the road. There are three in a row. His is the first you come to. There's a barn just before you get to them."
"Thank you. I shall be able to find them. I should like to speak to Markby for a moment on a small matter."
A sharp walk took him to the cottages Adair had mentioned. He rapped at the door of the first, and the groundsman came out in his shirt sleeves, blinking as if he had just waked up, as was indeed the case.
"Oh, Markby!"
"Sir?"
"You remember that you were painting the scoring box in the pavilion last night after the match?"
"Yes, sir. It wanted a lick of paint bad. The young gentlemen will scramble about and get through the window. Makes it look shabby, sir. So I thought I'd better give it a coating so as to look shipshape when the Marylebone come down."