used had been the glass doors of the salon facing the drive. To
that spot, then, they returned. There were three sets of footmarks
upon the soil. One set ran in a distinct curve from the drive to
the side of the door, and did not cross the others.

"Those," said Hanaud, "are the footsteps of my intelligent friend,
Perrichet, who was careful not to disturb the ground."

Perrichet beamed all over his rosy face, and Besnard nodded at him
with condescending approval.

"But I wish, M. le Commissaire"--and Hanaud pointed to a blur of
marks--"that your other officers had been as intelligent. Look!
These run from the glass door to the drive, and, for all the use
they are to us, a harrow might have been dragged across them."

Besnard drew himself up.

"Not one of my officers has entered the room by way of this door.
The strictest orders were given and obeyed. The ground, as you see
it, is the ground as it was at twelve o'clock last night."

Hanaud's face grew thoughtful.

"Is that so?" he said, and he stooped to examine the second set of
marks. They were at the righthand side of the door. "A woman and a
man," he said. "But they are mere hints rather than prints. One
might almost think--" He rose up without finishing his sentence,
and he turned to the third set and a look of satisfaction gleamed
upon his face. "Ah! here is something more interesting," he said.