He was a very different type from Superintendent Merrington--a gentleman by birth and education, a churchman, and a county magnate.

He never did anything so dangerous as to think, but accepted the traditions and rules of his race and class as his safe guide through life.

Like most Englishmen of his station of life, he was endowed with just sufficient intelligence to permit him to slide along his little groove of life with some measure of satisfaction to himself and pleasure to his neighbours.

He was a sound judge of cattle and horses, but of human nature he knew nothing whatever, and his first act, on being informed of the murder at the moat-house, was to ring up Scotland Yard and request it to send down one of its most trusted officials to investigate the circumstances.

In reply to this call for assistance, Superintendent Merrington, not unmindful of the county standing and influence of the Herediths, had decided to investigate the case himself, and had brought with him two satellites--a finger-print expert who was at that moment paring his own finger-nails with a pocket-knife as he stared vacantly out of the library window, and an official photographer, who was upstairs taking photographs in the death chamber.
Seated near the finger-print expert was a police official of middle-age, Inspector Weyling, of the Sussex County Police.