“How deep is it?”

“About two feet at each side and three in the middle.”

“So we can put aside all idea of the man having been drowned in crossing.”

“No, a child could not be drowned in it.”

We walked across the drawbridge, and were admitted by a quaint, gnarled, dried-up person, who was the butler, Ames.  The poor old fellow was white and quivering from the shock.  The village sergeant, a tall, formal, melancholy man, still held his vigil in the room of Fate.  The doctor had departed.

“Anything fresh, Sergeant Wilson?” asked White Mason.

“No, sir.”

“Then you can go home.  You’ve had enough.  We can send for you if we want you.  The butler had better wait outside.  Tell him to warn Mr. Cecil Barker, Mrs. Douglas, and the housekeeper that we may want a word with them presently.  Now, gentlemen, perhaps you will allow me to give you the views I have formed first, and then you will be able to arrive at your own.”

He impressed me, this country specialist.  He had a solid grip of fact and a cool, clear, common-sense brain, which should take him some way in his profession.  Holmes listened to him intently, with no sign of that impatience which the official exponent too often produced.

“Is it suicide, or is it murder—­that’s our first question, gentlemen, is it not?  If it were suicide, then we have to believe that this man began by taking off his wedding ring and concealing it; that he then came down here in his dressing gown, trampled mud into a corner behind the curtain in order to give the idea someone had waited for him, opened the window, put blood on the—­”

“We can surely dismiss that,” said MacDonald.

“So I think.  Suicide is out of the question.  Then a murder has been done.  What we have to determine is, whether it was done by someone outside or inside the house.”

“Well, let’s hear the argument.”

“There are considerable difficulties both ways, and yet one or the other it must be.  We will suppose first that some person or persons inside the house did the crime.  They got this man down here at a time when everything was still and yet no one was asleep.  They then did the deed with the queerest and noisiest weapon in the world so as to tell everyone what had happened—­a weapon that was never seen in the house before.  That does not seem a very likely start, does it?”

“No, it does not.”

“Well, then, everyone is agreed that after the alarm was given only a minute at the most had passed before the whole household—­not Mr. Cecil Barker alone, though he claims to have been the first, but Ames and all of them were on the spot.  Do you tell me that in that time the guilty person managed to make footmarks in the corner, open the window, mark the sill with blood, take the wedding ring off the dead man’s finger, and all the rest of it?  It’s impossible!”