John Thorndykes Cases | Page 5

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Port Marston; we saw his footprints along the shore--those rubber heels
make them easy to identify--and he didn't go down Sundersley Gap. He
probably meant to climb up the cliff by that little track that you see
there, which the people about here call the Shepherd's Path. Now the
murderer must have known that he was coming, and waited upon the
cliff to keep a lookout. When he saw Mr. Hearn enter the bay, he came
down the path and attacked him, and, after a tough struggle, succeeded
in stabbing him. Then he turned and went back up the path. You can
see the double track between the path and the place where the struggle
took place, and the footprints going to the path are on top of those
coming from it."
"If you follow the tracks," said Dr. Burrows, "you ought to be able to
see where the murderer went to."
"I'm afraid not," replied the sergeant. "There are no marks on the path
itself--the rock is too hard, and so is the ground above, I fear. But I'll go
over it carefully all the same."
The investigations being so far concluded, the body was lifted on to the
stretcher, and the cortège, consisting of the bearers, the Doctor, and
the fisherman, moved off towards the Gap, while the sergeant, having

civilly wished us "Good-evening," scrambled up the Shepherd's Path,
and vanished above.
"A very smart officer that," said Thorndyke. "I should like to know
what he wrote in his notebook."
"His account of the circumstances of the murder seemed a very
reasonable one," I said.
"Very. He noted the plain and essential facts, and drew the natural
conclusions from them. But there are some very singular features in
this case; so singular that I am disposed to make a few notes for my
own information."
He stooped over the place where the body had lain, and having
narrowly examined the sand there and in the place where the dead
man's feet had rested, drew out his notebook and made a memorandum.
He next made a rapid sketch-plan of the bay, marking the position of
the body and the various impressions in the sand, and then, following
the double track leading from and to the Shepherd's Path, scrutinized
the footprints with the deepest attention, making copious notes and
sketches in his book.
"We may as well go up by the Shepherd's Path," said Thorndyke. "I
think we are equal to the climb, and there may be visible traces of the
murderer after all. The rock is only a sandstone, and not a very hard
one either."
We approached the foot of the little rugged track which zigzagged up
the face of the cliff, and, stooping down among the stiff, dry herbage,
examined the surface. Here, at the bottom of the path, where the rock
was softened by the weather, there were several distinct impressions on
the crumbling surface of the murderer's nailed boots, though they were
somewhat confused by the tracks of the sergeant, whose boots were
heavily nailed. But as we ascended the marks became rather less
distinct, and at quite a short distance from the foot of the cliff we lost
them altogether, though we had no difficulty in following the more
recent traces of the sergeant's passage up the path.

When we reached the top of the cliff we paused to scan the path that
ran along its edge, but here, too, although the sergeant's heavy boots
had left quite visible impressions on the ground, there were no signs of
any other feet. At a little distance the sagacious officer himself was
pursuing his investigations, walking backwards and forwards with his
body bent double, and his eyes fixed on the ground.
"Not a trace of him anywhere," said he, straightening himself up as we
approached. "I was afraid there wouldn't be after all this dry weather. I
shall have to try a different tack. This is a small place, and if those
boots belong to anyone living here they'll be sure to be known."
"The deceased gentleman--Mr. Hearn, I think you called him," said
Thorndyke as we turned towards the village--"is he a native of the
locality?"
"Oh no, sir," replied the officer. "He is almost a stranger. He has only
been here about three weeks; but, you know, in a little place like this a
man soon gets to be known--and his business, too, for that matter," he
added, with a smile.
"What was his business, then?" asked Thorndyke.
"Pleasure, I believe. He was down here for a holiday, though it's a good
way past the season; but, then, he had a friend living here, and that
makes a difference. Mr. Draper up at the Poplars was an old friend of
his, I understand. I