looked at him in evident surprise at his nervous, embarrassed manner.
His own attitude, however, was perfectly firm, though polite.

"I don't like pressing you, sir," said he, "but time is precious--we'll
have to go single file here; this pond is a public nuisance. They ought
to bank it up at this end. After you, sir."

The pond to which the sergeant alluded had evidently extended at one
time right across the path, but now, thanks to the dry weather, a narrow
isthmus of half-dried mud traversed the morass, and along this Mr.
Draper proceeded to pick his way. The sergeant was about to follow, when
suddenly he stopped short with his eyes riveted upon the muddy track. A
single glance showed me the cause of his surprise, for on the stiff,
putty-like surface, standing out with the sharp distinctness of a wax
mould, were the fresh footprints of the man who had just passed, each
footprint displaying on its sole the impression of stud-nails arranged
in a diamond-shaped pattern, and on its heel a group of similar nails
arranged in a cross.

The sergeant hesitated for only a moment, in which he turned a quick
startled glance upon us; then he followed, walking gingerly along the
edge of the path as if to avoid treading in his predecessor's
footprints. Instinctively we did the same, following closely, and
anxiously awaiting the next development of the tragedy. For a minute or
two we all proceeded in silence, the sergeant being evidently at a loss
how to act, and Mr. Draper busy with his own thoughts. At length the
former spoke.

"You think, Mr. Draper, you would rather that I looked in on you
to-morrow about this affair?"