CHAPTER XI

THE THIN END OF A CLUE


Edmund Grosse later on in the morning strolled down to the stables. He
had been there the day before, but he had still something to say to the
stud-groom, an old friend of his, who had the highest respect for the
baronet's judgment.

Edmund loved a really well-kept stable, where hardly a straw escapes
beyond the plaited edges, where the paint is renewed and washed to the
highest possible pitch of cleanliness, and where a perpetual whish of
water and clanking of pails testify to a constant cleaning of
cobblestone yard and flagged pavement.

In the middle of Groombridge Castle stable-yard there was an oval of
perfect turf, and that was surrounded by soft, red gravel; then came
alternate squares of pavement and cobble-stones, on to which opened the
wide doors of coach-houses and stables and harness-rooms, and the back
gate of the stud-groom's house.

An old, white-haired, ruddy-faced man standing on the red gravel smiled
heartily when Sir Edmund appeared. The man was in plain clothes, with a
very upright collar and a pearl horseshoe-pin in his tie; his figure was
well-built, but showed unmistakably that his knees had been fixed in
their present shape by constant riding.