So far had my studies proceeded when I heard the door-bell ring, and
Coates entered the room.

"Detective-Inspector Gatton to see you, sir."

Gatton came in looking if anything more puzzled than when I had left
him at the Red House; also I thought he looked tired, and:

"Mix yourself a drink, Inspector," I said, pointing to a side-table
upon which refreshments were placed.

"Thanks," replied Gatton. "I have not had time to stop for a drink or
even a smoke since I left you; but evidence is coming in quickly
enough now."

He helped himself to a whisky and soda, being an old visitor and one
used to the Bohemian ways of my household; then setting his glass upon
a corner of my writing-table, he dropped into the armchair and began
in leisurely fashion to fill his pipe.

Although the hour was growing late, sunset was still a long way off
and the prospect visible through the window was bathed in golden
light. From where I sat I could catch a glimpse of the tree-lined
road, and for the first time since that strange experience had
befallen me, I found myself wondering if the vaguely-perceived
follower whom I had detected on the previous night and those blazing
feline eyes which had looked out at me from beneath the shadow of the
hedge could have had any possible connection with the tragedy which at
about the same hour was being enacted in the Red House. I determined