Strange that now in its old age this dark
business should have cast its shadow upon the venerable walls!
And yet those strange, peaked roofs and quaint, overhung gables
were a fitting covering to grim and terrible intrigue. As I
looked at the deep-set windows and the long sweep of the
dull-coloured, water-lapped front, I felt that no more fitting
scene could be set for such a tragedy.
"That's the window," said White Mason, "that one on the immediate
right of the drawbridge. It's open just as it was found last
night."
"It looks rather narrow for a man to pass."
"Well, it wasn't a fat man, anyhow. We don't need your
deductions, Mr. Holmes, to tell us that. But you or I could
squeeze through all right."
Holmes walked to the edge of the moat and looked across. Then he
examined the stone ledge and the grass border beyond it.
"I've had a good look, Mr. Holmes," said White Mason. "There is
nothing there, no sign that anyone has landed--but why should he
leave any sign?"
"Exactly. Why should he? Is the water always turbid?"
"Generally about this colour. The stream brings down the clay.
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