wall is a high one and ornamented with fragments of broken bottles on the top. If anyone had placed a ladder against it, we ought to find traces of their passage.
We were working our way slowly along the wall when a sound came to our ears of a breaking twig. I pressed forward, forcing my way through a thick tangle of shrubs—and came face to face with Inspector Slack.
“So it’s you,” he said. “And Mr. Redding. Now what do you think you two gentlemen are doing?”
Slightly crestfallen, we explained.
“Quite so,” said the inspector. “Not being the fools we’re usually thought to be, I had the same idea myself. I’ve been here over an hour. Would you like to know something?”
“Yes,” I said meekly.
“Whoever murdered Colonel Protheroe didn’t come this way to do it! There’s not a sign either on this side of the wall, nor the other. Whoever murdered Colonel