s about to close the
Sherwood Inn; Carl Meason stood near him, full in the light of the
lamp, which Abel always lit, whether required or not, at the same hour.

"Quaint inns and places you have in this country," said Braund, as he
noticed the sign.

Abel recognized Alan and touched his cap. Carl Meason stared at them.
As his glance rested on the American he gave a slight start of surprise.

"Who is that with Mr. Chesney?" he asked.

"Don't know for sure; fancy a gentleman down here after buying one of
the horses. I heard it was likely Mameluke would be sold; it's a pity,
he's a great horse," said Abel.

Carl gave what sounded like a sigh of relief.

"Doesn't happen to come from America, does he?" he asked carelessly.

"Not that I'm aware of," said Abel.

Valentine Braund caught sight of Carl Meason's face in the light; he
turned quickly to look again as the motor went past.

"Funny," he said. "Fancied I'd seen that fellow before."

"Which fellow?" asked Alan.

"The man under the lamp. I'm almost sure of it, but it can't be
possible in this quiet place," said Braund.

"His name is Carl Meason, a surveyor I believe; he's studying maps,
planning road improvements, and he wants to be quiet," said Alan.

When they arrived at the house and were seated for a quiet smoke Braund
said quickly:

"I can't get that fellow out of my head--it's strange."

"How strange?" asked Alan.

"He reminds me of a man I had dealings with in America," said Braund
half to himself.

"What sort of dealings?" questioned Alan.

"It's impossible of course; what would he be doing here? He reminds me
of a man who once caused a lot of bloodshed at our steel works--a
strike leader, if not worse," said Braund.

Alan smiled as he replied:

"Such a man would not be likely to remain at the Sherwood Inn, Little
Trent, for many weeks. He'd find it too slow for him."

"That's just it, he would; but I'd like to see him again just out of
curiosity," said Braund.

CHAPTER X

CARL MAKES LOVE

"I'm going away for a few days. You'll keep my room; I'll be back at
the end of the week," said Meason.

"I'll keep your room," said Abel, wishing he was leaving altogether.

Carl Meason left in his motor car. He took the road to Nottingham,
which skirted Trent Park, and ran past the old monastery; he slowed
down as he neared the ruin and hooted.

Jane heard it and came out; there was a small door opening on to the
road.

"Thoug