We walked forward, following the broad trail until we came to a circular patch of trodden snow. Evidently the searchers had stopped and stood talking together. On the further side I saw the footprints of a man plainly defined. There were some half-dozen clear impressions and they ended at the base of the old wall, which was some six feet in height.
"I am glad to see that you and your friends have left me something, Mr. Harbord," said the Inspector.
He stepped forward and, kneeling down, examined the nearest footprint.
"Mr. Ford dressed for dinner?" he inquired, glancing up at the secretary.
"Certainly! Why do you ask?"
"Merely that he had on heavy shooting boots when he took this evening stroll. It will be interesting to discover what clothes he wore."
The Inspector walked up to the wall, moving parallel to the tracks in the snow. With singular activity for his plump and unathletic figure he climbed to the top and seated himself while he stared about him. Then on his hands and knees he began to crawl forward along the coping. It was a quaint spectacle, but the extraordinary care and vigilance of the little man took the farce out of it.
Presently he stopped and looked down at us with a gentle smile.
"Please stay where you are," he said, and disappeared on the further side.
Harbord offered me a cigarette, and we waited with due obedience till the Inspector's bullet-head again broke the horizon as he struggled back to his position on the coping of the wall.