"It seems to me," remarked one of them to the man beside him, "that there is an inexorable chain of logic about this that I am unable to follow." "So do I," said the other.
The Chief Inspector of the Detective Department, a large, heavy-looking man, was standing beside a gate-post.

He nodded gloomily to Transome Kent.
"Are you baffled, Edwards ?" asked Kent.
"Baffled again, Mr.Kent," said the Inspector, with a sob in his voice.
"I thought I could have solved this one, but I can't." He passed a handkerchief across his eyes.
"Have a cigar, Chief," said Kent, "and let me hear what the trouble is." The Inspector brightened.

Like all policemen, he was simply crazy over cigars.

"All right, Mr.Kent," he said, "wait till I chase away the morbid curiosity-seekers." He threw a stick at them.
"Now, then," continued Kent, "what about tracks, footmarks?
Had you thought of them ?" "Yes, first thing.

The whole lawn is covered with them, all stamped down.