"I can see the garden," he said.
"Can you see the sun-dial?"
"Quite clearly."
"Good. And now you, Knox."
I followed, filled with astonishment.
"Do you see the sun-dial?" asked Harley, again.
"Quite clearly."
"And beyond it?"
"Yes, I can see beyond it. I can even see its shadow lying like a black
band on the path."
"And you can see the yew trees?"
"Of course."
"But nothing else? Nothing unusual?"
"Nothing."
"Very well," said Harley, tersely. "And now, gentlemen, we take to the
rough ground, proceeding due east. Will you be good enough to follow?"
Walking around the hut he found an opening in the hedge, and scrambled
down into the place where rank grass grew and through which he and I on
a previous occasion had made our way to the high road. To-night,
however, he did not turn toward the high road, but proceeded along the
crest of the hill.
I followed him, excited by the novelty of the proceedings. Wessex, very
silent, came behind me, and Inspector Aylesbury, swearing under his
breath, waded through the long grass at the rear.
"Will you all turn your attention to the garden again, please?" cried
Harley.
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