“Now,” he began, “what have you got to report, gentlemen?  You, Inspector,” he pointed with his cigar toward Wessex, “have seen Vane’s man and all of you have been down to look at these damned tracks.  I only want to hear one thing; that you expect to trace the disgraceful couple.  I’ll see to it”—­his voice rose almost to a shout—­“that Vane is kicked out of the service, and as to that shameless brat of Bramber’s, I wish her no worse than the blackguard’s company!”

“One moment, Sir Howard, one moment,” said Harley quietly; “there are always two sides to a case.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Harley?  There’s only one side that interests me—­the outrage inflicted upon my hospitality by this dirty guest of mine.  For the girl I don’t give twopence; she was bound to come to a bad end.”

“Well,” said Harley, “before we pronounce the final verdict upon either of them I should like to interview Bramber.  Perhaps,” he added, turning to Wessex, “it would be as well if Mr. Knox and I went alone.  The presence of an official detective sometimes awes this class of witness.”

“Quite right, quite right!” agreed Sir Howard, waving his cigar vigorously.  “Go and see Bramber, Mr. Harley; tell him that no blame attaches to himself whatever; also, tell him with my compliments that his stepdaughter is------”

“Quite so, quite so,” interrupted Harley, endeavouring to hide a smile.  “I understand your feelings, Sir Howard, but again I ask you to reserve your verdict until all the facts are before us.”

As a result, Harley and I presently set out for the gamekeeper’s cottage, and as the man had been warned that we should visit him, he was on the porch smoking his pipe.  A big, dark, ugly fellow he proved to be, of a very forbidding cast of countenance.  Having introduced ourselves: 

“I always knowed she’d come to a bad end!” declared Gamekeeper Bramber, almost echoing Sir Howard’s words.  “One o’ these gentlemen o’ hers was sure to be the finish of her!”

“She had other admirers—­before Captain Vane?”

“Aye! the hussy!  There was a black-faced villain not six months since!  He got t’ vain cat to go to London an’ have her photograph done in a dress any decent woman would ‘a’ blushed to look at!  Like one o’ these Venuses up at t’ Manor!  Good riddance!  She took after her mother!”

The violent old ruffian was awkward to examine, but Harley persevered.

“This previous admirer caused her to be photographed in that way, did he?  Have you a copy?”

“No!” blazed Bramber.  “What I found I burnt!  He ran off, like I told her he would—­an’ her cryin’ her eyes out!  But the pretty soger dried her tears quick enough!”

“Do you know this man’s name?”

“No.  A foreigner, he was.”

“Where were the photographs done—­in London, you say?”

“Aye.”

“Do you know by what photographer?”