s name, sir. But he left his cigar-case behind. I found
it on the settle five minutes after he had gone, and ran out to search for
him. . . ."

Mr. Molesworth opened the gate and held out a hand for the case. Yes: he
recognised it. It bore Sir John's monogram in silver.

"I will give it to him," he said. Without exactly knowing why, he
followed her into the inn-kitchen. Yes, he would take a pint of her ale.
"The home-brewed?" Yes, certainly, the home-brewed.

She brought it in a pewter tankard, exquisitely polished. The polish of
it caught and cast back the sunlight in prismatic circles on the scoured
deal table. The girl--Margaret--stood for a moment in the fuller sunlight
by the window, lingering there to pick a dead leaf from a geranium on the
ledge.

"Which way did Sir John go?"

"I _thought_ he took the turning along the shore; but I didn't notice
particularly which way he went. He said he had come down the valley, and
I took it for granted he would be going on."

Mr. Molesworth drank his beer and stood up. "There are only two ways,
then, out of this valley?"

"Thank you, sir--" As he paid her she dropped a small curtsey--"Yes, only
two ways--up the valley or along the shore. The road up the valley leads
to the railway station."

"By the way, there was an accident at the station this morning?"

"Indeed, sir?" Her beautiful eyes grew round. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"It might have been a very nasty one indeed," said Mr. Molesworth, and
paused. "I think I'll take a look along the shore before returning.
I don't want to miss my friend, if I can help it."

"You can see right along it from the rock beyond the garden," said the
girl, and Mr. Molesworth went out.

As he reached the spit of rock, the sunlight playing down the waters of
the creek dazzled him for a moment. Rubbing his eyes, he saw, about two
hundred yards along the foreshore, a boat grounded, and two figures beside
it on the beach: and either his sight was playing him a trick or these two
were struggling together.

He ran towards them. Almost as he started, in one of the figures he
recognised Sir John. The other had him by the shoulders, and seemed to be
dragging him by main force towards the boat. Mr. Molesworth shouted as he
rushed up to the fray. The assailant turned--turned with a loud hissing
sound--and, releasing Sir John, swung up a hand with something in it that
flashed in the sun as he struck at the newcomer: a