A Silent Witness | Page 5

themselves and once more set a-going the train of
speculation. Vividly I saw with my mind's eye the motionless figure
lying limp and inert with the pitiless rain beating down on it; the fixed
pupils, the insensitive eyeballs, the pulseless wrist and the sprawling
posture. And again I saw the streaming path, void of its dreadful burden,
the suspicious inspector, the incredulous sergeant; and the
unanswerable questions formulated themselves anew.
Had I, after all, mistaken a living man for a dead body? It was in the
highest degree improbable, and yet it was not impossible. Or had the
body been spirited away without leaving a trace? That also was highly
improbable and yet, not absolutely impossible. The two contending
improbabilities cancelled one another. Each was as unlikely as the
other.
I turned the problem over again and again as I shaved and took my bath.
I pondered upon it over a late and leisurely breakfast. But no
conclusion emerged from these reflections. The man, living or dead,
had been lying motionless in the lane all the time that I was sheltering,
and probably for some time before. In the interval of my absence he
had vanished. These were actual facts despite the open incredulity of
the police. How he had come there, what had occasioned his death or
insensibility, how he had disappeared and whither he had gone; were
questions to which no answer seemed possible.

The fatigues of the previous night had left me somewhat indolent.
There was no occasion for me to go to the hospital to-day. It was
vacation time; the school was closed; the teaching staff were mostly
away, and there was little doing in the wards. I decided to take a
holiday and spend a quiet day rambling about the Heath, and, having
formed this resolution, I filled my pipe, slipped a sketch-book into my
pocket, and set forth.
Automatically my feet turned towards Millfield Lane. It was, as I have
said, my usual walk, and on this morning, with last night's recollections
fresh in my mind, it was natural that I should take my way thither.
Very different was the aspect of the lane this morning from that which I
had last looked upon. The gloom and desolation of the night had given
place to the golden sunshine of a lovely autumn day. The elms, clothed
already in the sober livery of the waning year, sighed with pensive
reminiscence of the summer that was gone; the ponds repeated the
warm blue of the sky; and the lane itself was a vista of flickering
sunlight and cool, reposeful shadow.
The narrow continuation beyond the posts was wrapped as always, in a
sombre shade, save where a gleam of yellow light streamed through a
chink between the boards of the fence. I made my way straight to the
spot where the body had lain and stooped over it, examining each
pebble with the closest scrutiny. But not a trace remained. The hard,
gravelly soil retained no impress either of the body or even of our
footsteps; and as for the stain of blood, if there had ever been any, it
would have been immediately removed by the falling rain, for the
ground here had a quite appreciable slope and must have been covered
last night by a considerable flowing stream.
I went on to the break in the fence--it was on the right-hand side of the
path--and was at once discouraged by the aspect of the ground; for even
our rough tramplings had left hardly a trace behind. After an aimless
walk across the meadow, now occupied by a flock of sheep, I returned
to the lane and walked slowly back past the place where I had sheltered
from the rain. And then it was that I discovered the first hint of any clue
to the mystery. I had retraced my steps some little distance past the spot

where I had seen the body, when my eye was attracted by a darkish
streak on the upper part of the high fence. It was quite faint and not at
all noticeable on the weather-stained oak, but it chanced to catch my
eye and I stopped to examine it. The fence which bore it was the
opposite one to that in which the break occurred, and, since I had
sheltered under it, the side of it which looked towards the lane must
have been the lee side and thus less exposed to the rain.
I looked at the stain attentively. It extended from the top of the
fence-which was about seven feet high--half-way to the ground, fading
away gradually in all directions. The colour was a dull brown, and the
appearance very much that of blood which had run down a wet surface.
The board which bore the stain was