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In passing the garden to reach the road, at a place where a bridle hook is driven into the wall, I saw something white moved irregularly, evidently by another agent than the wind. Notwithstanding my hurry, I stayed to examine it, lest ever after I should have the conviction impressed on my imagination that it was a creature of the other world. My surprise and perplexity were great to discover, by touch more than vision, Miss Isabella's springer, Fanny, suspended by a handkerchief, and nearly at its last gasp.
I quickly released the animal, and lifted it into the garden. I had seen it follow its mistress upstairs when she went to bed; and wondered much how it could have got out there, and what mischievous person had treated it so. While untying the knot round the hook, it seemed to me that I repeatedly caught the beat of horses' feet galloping at some distance; but there were such a number of things to occupy my reflections that I hardly gave the circumstance a thought: though it was a strange sound, in that place, at two o'clock in the morning.

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This was Franklin Clarke，the dead man's only brother. He had the resolute competent manner of a man accustomed to meeting withemergencies. "Good morning，gentlemen." Inspector Wells made the introductions. "This is Inspector Crome of the CID，Mr Hercule Poirot and-er-CaptainHayter." "Hastings，"I corrected coldly.
Franklin Clarke shook hands with each of us in turn and in each case thehandshake was accompanied by a piercing look. "Let me offer you some breakfast，"he said."We can discuss the positionas we eat." There were no dissentient voices and we were soon doing justice toexcellent eggs and bacon and coffee. "Now for it，"said Franklin Clarke."Inspector Wells gave me a rough ideaof the position last night-though I may say it seemed one of the wildest