and round the base of the tower. He crossed to the sunken garden, and at the top of the steps paused.
“Be good enough to regard the sun-dial from this point,” he directed.
Even as he spoke, I caught my breath, and I heard Aylesbury utter a sort of gasping sound.
Beyond the sun-dial and slightly to the left of it, viewed from where we stood, a faint, elfin light flickered, at a point apparently some four or five feet above the ground!
“What’s this?” muttered Wessex.
“Follow again, gentlemen,” said Harley quietly.
He led the way down to the garden and along the path to the sun-dial. This he passed, pausing immediately in front of the yew tree in which I knew the bullet to be embedded.
He did not speak, but, extending his finger, pointed.
A piece of candle, some four inches long, was attached by means of a nail to the bark of the tree, so that its flame burned immediately in front of the bullet embedded there!
For perhaps ten seconds no one spoke; indeed I think no one moved. Then:
“Good God!” murmured Wessex. “You have done some clever things to my knowledge, Mr. Harley, but this crowns them all.”
“Clever things!” said Inspector Aylesbury. “I think it’s a lot of damned tomfoolery.”
“Do you, Inspector?” asked the Scotland Yard man, quietly. “I don’t. I think it has saved the life of an innocent man.”
“What’s that? What’s that?” cried Aylesbury.
“This candle was burning here on the yew tree,” explained Harley, “at the time that you looked out
