He paused first at a bend in the road, about fifty yards down, and stepped up close to the hedge.
"The instinct of the sleuthhound," he said to himself, "is all very well, but why on earth haven't I told Furley about the car ?" He paused to consider the matter, conscious only of the fact that each time he had opened his lips to mention it, he had felt a marked but purposeless disinclination to do so.

He consoled himself now with the reflection that the information would be more or less valueless until the afternoon, and he forthwith proceeded upon the investigation which he had planned out.
The road was still muddy, and the track of the tyres, which were of somewhat peculiar pattern, clearly visible.

He followed it along the road for a matter of a mile and a half.

Then he came to a standstill before a plain oak gate and was conscious of a distinct shock.

On the top bar of the gate was painted in white letters.
MALTENBY HALL TRADESMEN'S ENTRANCE and it needed only the most cursory examination to establish the fact that the car whose track he had been following had turned in here.