ahead of me. Not wishing to waste time, I followed by the shorter route. And now, gentlemen, let us begin.”
“Good,” muttered Inspector Aylesbury.
“But first of all,” continued Harley, “I wish each one of you in turn to look out of the window of the hut, and down into the Tudor garden of Cray’s Folly. Will you begin, Wessex?”
Wessex, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and staring hard at the speaker, nodded, entered the hut, and kneeling on the wooden seat, looked out of the window.
“Open the panes,” said Harley, “so that you have a perfectly clear view.”
Wessex slid the panes open and stared intently down into the valley.
“Do you see anything unusual in the garden?”
“Nothing,” he reported.
“And now, Inspector Aylesbury.”
Inspector Aylesbury stamped noisily across the little hut, and peered out, briefly.
“I can see the garden,” he said.
“Can you see the sun-dial?”
“Quite clearly.”
“Good. And now you, Knox.”
I followed, filled with astonishment.
“Do you see the sun-dial?” asked Harley, again.
“Quite clearly.”
“And beyond it?”
“Yes, I can see beyond it. I can even see its shadow lying like a black band on the path.”
“And you can see the yew trees?”
“Of course.”
“But nothing else? Nothing unusual?”
“Nothing.”
