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In size and arrangement it is practically a little town, and is surrounded by some very pretty country. The glory of Wrington is its church, which possesses one of the finest towers in Somerset. It is a stately and harmonious composition, with long and graceful belfry windows, and bears a strong family likeness to the towers of Evercreech and St Cuthbert's, Wells.
A bitter wind had chopped the incoming tide into a quite respectable imitation of a rough sea. There were three men in each boat. Wrington at the tiller in one, Jones, his lieutenant, steering the other. "It's going to be a cold job," commented Foyle, as he turned up his coat collar and stamped heavily on the frosty boards. "Ay," agreed Green.
It was some time before Wrington, the divisional detective-inspector at the head of the detective staff of the Thames Division, could be found, for like other branches of the C.I.D. he and his men did their work systematically, and usually left their office at nine o'clock only to return at six.
Burrington, a small village in the Vale of Wrington, with a station on the Light Railway. It possesses a remarkable ravine, which would be considered fine by any one unacquainted with Cheddar. It has the magnitude but not the grandeur of its famous competitor. The hillsides present merely a series of steep slopes broken by protruding masses of rock.
Burtle, a parish 1 m. N. of Edington Station. The church is modern. Butcombe, a village 2 m. N. of Blagdon, prettily situated in a nook of the Wrington Vale. Several monastic bodies originally owned property here, but the church does not seem to have benefited largely by their proprietorship. It is a small Perp. structure, of no great interest. Butleigh is a pleasant village, 4 m.
The sheet of paper read "In connection with the investigation into the murder of Mr. Robert Grell, Superintendent Heldon Foyle, accompanied by Chief Detective-Inspector Green, Divisional Detective-Inspector Wrington, and other detectives, examined the body of a man found in the river, whom it was supposed might be the man Goldenburg, for whom search is being made.
The problem is in fact more complex; and the solution he indicated became so natural a part of the political fabric that the value of his emphasis upon its import was largely forgotten when men again took up the study of foundations. John Locke was born at Wrington in Somerset on the 29th of August, 1632.
At his word the others came running, and with Wrington at the oars they also crept about in determined search. "It's hopeless," growled Green, in an undertone. "On a night like this we might as well look for a needle in a haystack." "We won't give up yet, anyway," retorted Foyle, and there was an unwonted irritability in his tone.
He is a watchman." "You're right, sir," agreed the other emphatically. "This is a matter where Wrington of the Thames Division will be able to help us. Hope we can find him at Wapping. Shall I ring through?" "There's no hurry for a minute or two," said Foyle. "Let's get the hang of the thing right. There's probably some hundreds of barges below Tower Bridge.
A blow on the head from the propeller of a tug completed a maze of circumstantial evidence which might have served as an excuse to most men for giving up the problem. Yet Wrington had solved it, and the record, which had never seen the light of publicity, was hidden in the archives of the service. This was the man Foyle had now called in.
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