"No one in it but the one man, on the face of it.""True," agreed Hannasyde. "Still, there are points.""That's right, Superintendent," nodded Inspector True. "That's what I said myself. What about them footprints? They weren't made by the old lady: she doesn't wear that kind of shoe.""Housemaid, saying good-night to her young man," said the experienced Hemingway."Hardly," said Hannasyde. "She wouldn't choose a bush just outside her master's study.""No, nor there wasn't anything like that going on," said the Inspector. "The cook is a very respectable woman, married to Simmons, the butler, and the housemaid is her own niece, and this Mrs. Simmons swears to it both she and the kitchen-maid never stirred outside the house the whole evening.""It's my belief those footprints'll be found to be highly irrelevant," said Hemingway obstinately. "All we want is this chap your man - what's-his-name? - Glass saw making off. Nothing to it."Hannasyde cocked an eyebrow at him. "Liverish, Skipper?""I don't like the set-up.
