It's part of your work to look after deserters and
absentees and those sort o' folk, isn't it?"
The A.P.M. groaned.
"Part of my work?" he repeated, "it seems to be my whole life
ever since I came back from the front."
"If you want to know what this young fellow has been up to," said
Mr. Marigold in his even voice, "it's murder, if I'm not
mistaken!"
"Murder?" echoed the other in surprise. "Why, not the Seven Kings
murder, surely?"
The detective gave a brisk nod.
"That's it," he replied, "I'm in charge of that case, if you
follow me. I found that pass in the front garden of the
Mackwayte's house in Laleham Villas, half trodden into the earth
of the flower-bed by a heavy boot, a service boot, studded with
nails. There had been a lot of rain in the night, and it had
washed the mosaic-tiled pathway up to the front door almost
clean. When I was having a look round the garden, I picked up
this pass, and then I spotted the trace of service boots, a bit
faint, on the beds. You know the way the nails are set in the
issue boots?"
The officer nodded:
"I ought to know that foot-print," he said. "It's all over the
roads in northern France."
"We made inquiries through you," the detective resumed, "and when
I found that this Gunner Barling, the owner of the pass, was
missing, well, you will admit, it looked a bit suspicious.
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