"Certain sure, sir, but the other lady wasn't near the house she wasn't. Sort of floating about under the trees in a kind of red dressing gown----"
"What's that--red--do you mean scarlet? Was it scarlet satin, Dollops? Do you think you know?"
"That I do, sir. Shining stuff it were and when I got near, she smelt something hevingly, like a garden full o' flowers."
"What's that?" rapped out Cleek, suddenly. "_Huile de jasmin_, of course. It must be the same woman I myself saw a month ago; and yet how does Miss Jennifer come to be there? If she is innocent, what was she doing in that room? And she was wearing a gold scarf, a piece of which I have here and which was clenched in the dead man's hand!"
"Heavens above, man!" snapped Narkom. "It's as clear as crystal. I should apply for a warrant for her arrest immediately."
"And yet, it was a revolver that had also been used, and one belonging to Sir Edgar. Miss Jennifer would hardly go so far as to murder the only obstacle that stood between the man she loved and his marriage to her rival. What, too, has become of that poor girl?"
"Don't ask me, Cleek," returned the puzzled Superintendent, dolefully. "It's the most infernal riddle I ever came across, and my head's aching with it. I'm off to get additional help, if you don't mind, or else we shall have crowds surging into that room before we know where we are."
"Right, Mr. Narkom, and as I still have a few threads to collect, Dollops and I will be off, too. We'll meet at the Hampton Arms. Come on, Dollops, we'll take a few impressions of those footprints before they're trodden out of existence to-morrow."
Cleek took out his electric torch and the two set forth on their appointed task, leaving Mr. Narkom to set a sufficient guard over the silent figure of a dead man on whose face there rested an inscrutable smile. It was as if he were smiling over the secret he held and which was to puzzle many minds, and was one of the greatest riddles Cleek had ever attempted to solve.
Meanwhile that gentleman and his zealous assistant worked silently and surely. Not a depressed blade of grass was left before it was subjected to the keenest scrutiny, while exact outlines were taken of the clearly defined footprints, with which the lawn was fairly alive. To recognize the unmistakable imprint of the Government Regulation boot worn by Mr. Narkom and Constable Roberts was a simple matter. The footprints of Cleek and Dollops were also distinguishable, for both had early in their companionship decided to wear boots which would always enable them to tell their own footprints from any they might be tracking, a precaution that had stood them in good stead on more than one occasion.