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shoe."
    "Housemaid, saying good-night to her young man," said the experienced Hemingway.
    "Hardly," said Hannasyde. "She wouldn't choose a bush just outside her master's study."
    "No, nor there wasn't anything like that going on," said the Inspector. "The cook is a very respectable woman, married to Simmons, the butler, and the housemaid is her own niece, and this Mrs. Simmons swears to it both she and the kitchen-maid never stirred outside the house the whole evening."
    "It's my belief those footprints'll be found to be highly irrelevant," said Hemingway obstinately. "All we want is this chap your man - what's-his-name? - Glass saw making off. Nothing to it."
    Hannasyde cocked an eyebrow at him. "Liverish, Skipper?"
    "I don't like the set-up. Ordinary, that's what it is. And I don't like the smashed skull. Just doesn't appeal to me. Give me something a bit recherche, and I'm right on to it. "
    Hannasyde smiled a little. "I repeat, there are points. The murdered man seems to have been universally liked. No motive for killing him even hinted at."
    "You wait till we've done half-an-hour's work on the case," said Hemingway. "I wouldn't mind betting we'll find scores of people all stiff with motives."
    "I thought you said all we had to do was to find the man PC Glass saw?"
    "I daresay I did, Chief, and what's more I was probably right, but you mark my words, we shall find a whole lot of stuff just confusing the main issue. I've been on this kind of case before."
    "The way I look at it," said the Inspector slowly, "we want to find the instrument it was done with."
    "Yes, that's another of the points," replied Hannasyde. "Your man Glass seems quite certain that the fellow he saw wasn't carrying anything. What sort of a chap is he? Reliable?"
    "Yes, sir, he is, very reliable. That's his conscience. He's a very religious man, Glass. I never can remember what sect he belongs to, but it's one of those where they all wrestle with the devil, and get moved by the Lord to stand up and testify. Well, I'm Church of England myself, but what I say is, it takes all sorts to make a world. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of detailing Glass to you, to give you any assistance you may need, Superintendent. I reckon he's one of my best men - not quick, you know, but not one to lose his head, or go flying off at a tangent. Seems only right to put him on to this case, seeing as it was him discovered the body."
    "All right," said Hannasyde absently, his eyes running down the typescript in his hand.
    The Inspector coughed. "Only perhaps I'd better just warn you, sir, that he's got a tiresome habit of coming out with bits of the Bible. One of these blood-and-thunder merchants, if you know what I mean. You can't break him of it. He gets moved by the spirit."
    "I daresay Hemingway will be able to deal with him," said Hannasyde, rather amused.
    "I knew I wasn't going to like this case," said Hemingway gloomily.
    Half-an-hour later, having made a tour of the grounds of Greystones, inspected the footprints behind the flowering currant bush, and cast a jaundiced eye over the stalwart, rigid form of PC Glass, he reiterated this statement.
    "If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small," said Glass reprovingly.
    The Sergeant surveyed him with acute dislike. "If you get fresh with me, my lad, we're going to fall out," he said.
    "The words are none of mine, but set down in Holy Writ, Sergeant," explained Glass.
    "There's a time and a place for everything," replied the Sergeant, "and this isn't the place nor the time for the Holy Writ. You attend to me, now! When you saw that chap sneaking out of this gate last night, it was just after ten o'clock, wasn't it?"
    "It was, Sergeant."
    "And getting dark?"
    "As you say, Sergeant."
    "Too dark for you to see him very clearly?"
    "Too dark for me to distinguish his features, but not too dark for me to take note of his build and raiment."
    "It's my belief it was too dark for you to see whether he was