"I should say we have to do with an unfortunate man who's gone mad,"
replied the detective; "and a madman doesn't take long to find as a
rule. I think it's murder right enough and I believe we shall find
that this soldier, who's had shell shock, turned on Pendean and cut
his throat, then, fondly hoping to hide the crime, got away with the
body. Why I judge him to be mad is because Mrs. Pendean, who has
told me the full story of the past, was able to assure me that the
men had become exceedingly friendly, and that certain differences,
which existed between them at the outbreak of the war, were entirely
composed. And even granting that they quarrelled again, the quarrel
must have suddenly sprung up. That seems improbable and one can't
easily imagine a sudden row so tremendous that it ends in murder.

"Redmayne was a big, powerful man and he may have struck without
intention to kill; but this mess means more than a blow with a fist.
I think that he was a homicidal maniac and probably plotted the job
beforehand with a madman's limited cunning; and if that is so,
there's pretty sure to be news waiting for us at Princetown. Before
dark we ought to know where are both the dead and the living man.
These footprints mean a bather, or perhaps two. We'll study them
later and drag the pond, if necessary."

The correctness of Brendon's deduction was made manifest within an
hour, and the operations of Robert Redmayne defined up to a point. A
man was waiting at the police station--George French, ostler at Two
Bridges Hotel, on West Dart.

"I knew Captain Redmayne," he said, "because he'd been down once or
twice of late to tea at Two Bridges. Last night, at half after ten,
I was crossing the road from the garage and suddenly, without