A Silent Witness | Page 6

traversed by a vertical crack near
one edge, so that I was able to break off a small piece without much
difficulty; and on examining that portion of the detached piece which
had formed the side of the crack, I found it covered with a
brownish-red, shiny substance, which I felt little doubt was dried blood,
here protected by the crack and so less altered by contact with water.
Naturally, my next proceeding was to scrutinize very carefully the
ground immediately beneath the stain. At the foot of the fence, a few
tussocks of grass and clumps of undergrown weeds struggled for life in
the deep shade. The latter certainly had, on close examination, the
appearance of having been trodden on, though it was not very evident.
But while I was considering an undoubted bruise on the stalk of a little
dead-nettle, my eye caught the glint of some bright object among the
leaves. I picked it out eagerly and held it up to look at it; and a very
curious object it was; evidently an article of jewellery of some kind, but
quite unlike anything I had ever seen before. It appeared to be a little
elongated, gold case, with eight sides and terminating at either end in a
blunt octagonal pyramid with a tiny ring at its apex, so that it seemed to
have been part of a necklace. Of the eight flat sides, six were
ornamented with sunk quatre-foils, four on each side; the other two
sides were plain except that each had a row of letters engraved on
it-A.M.D.G on one side, and S.V.D.P on the other. There was no
hall-mark and, as far as I could see, no means of opening the little case.
It seemed to have been suspended by a thin silk cord, a portion of

which remained attached to one ring and showed a frayed end where it
had broken or chafed through.
I wrapped the little object and the detached fragment of the fence in my
handkerchief (for I had broken off the latter with the idea of testing it
chemically for blood-pigment), and then resumed my investigations.
The appearances suggested that the body had been lifted over the fence,
and the question arose, What was on the other side? I listened
attentively for a few seconds, and then, hearing no sound of footsteps, I
grasped the top of the fence, gave a good spring and hoisting myself up,
sat astride and looked about me. The fence skirted the margin of a
small lake much overgrown with weeds, amidst which I could see a
couple of waterhens making off in alarm at my appearance, and beyond
the lake rose the dark mass of Ken Wood. The ground between the
fence and the lake was covered with high, reedy grass, which,
immediately below my perch, bore very distinct impressions of feet,
and an equally distinct set of tracks led away towards the wood-or from
the wood to the fence; it was impossible to say which. But in any case,
as there were no other tracks, it was certain that the person who made
them had climbed over the fence. I dropped down on the grass and,
having examined the ground attentively without discovering anything
fresh, set off to follow the tracks.
For some distance they continued through high grass in which the
impressions were very distinct: then they entered the wood, and here
also, in the soft humus, lightly sprinkled with fallen leaves, the
footprints were deep and easy to follow. But presently they struck a
path, and, as they did not reappear on the farther side, it was evident
that the unknown person had proceeded along it. The path was an old
one, well made of hard gravel, and, where it passed through the deeper
shade of the wood, was covered with velvety moss and grey-green
lichen; on which I made out with some difficulty, the imprints of feet.
But these were no longer distinct; they did not form a connected track;
nor was it possible to distinguish them from the footprints of other
persons who might have passed along the path. Even these I soon lost
where I had halted irresolutely under a noble beech that rose from a
fantastic coil of roots, and was considering how, if at all, I should next

proceed, when, there appeared round a curve of the path a man in cord
breeches and gaiters, evidently a keeper. He touched his hat civilly and
ventured to enquire my business. "I am afraid I have no business here at
all," I replied, for I did not think it expedient to tell him what had
brought me into the wood. "I suppose I am trespassing."
"Well, sir, it is private property," he rejoined, "and being so near
London we