promising to rejoin Betty at
nine o'clock. There was little business to be done at the meeting: by a
quarter to nine it was all over and Neale was going away. And as he
walked down the long sanded passage which led from the committee-room to
the front entrance of the inn, old Rob Walford, the landlord, came out
of the bow-windowed bar-parlour, beckoned him, with a mystery-suggesting
air, to follow, and led him into a private room, the door of which he
carefully closed.

Walford, a shrewd-eyed, astute old fellow, well known in Scarnham for
his business abilities and his penetration, chiefly into other people's
affairs, looked at Neale with a mingled expression of meaning and
inquiry.

"Mr. Neale!" he whispered, glancing round at the panelling of the old
parlour in which they stood, as if he feared that its ancient boards
might conceal eavesdroppers, "I wanted a word with you--in private.
How's this here affair going? Is aught being done? Is aught being found
out? Is that detective chap any good?--him from London, I mean. Is there
aught new--since this morning?"

"Not to my knowledge, Mr. Walford," answered Neale, who knew well that
the old innkeeper was hand-in-glove with the Scarnham police, and
invariably kept himself well primed with information about their doings.
"I should think you know nearly everything--just as much as I do--more,
perhaps."

The landlord poked a stout forefinger into Neale's waistcoat.

"Aye!" he said. "Aye, so I do!--as to what you might call surface
matter, Mr. Neale. But--about the main thing, which, in my opinion, is
the whereabouts of John Horbury? Does yon young lady at the Scarnham
Arms know aught more about her uncle? Do you? Does anybody? Is there
aught behind, like; aught that hasn't come out on the top?"

"I don't know of anything," replied Neale. "I wish I did! Miss Fosdyke's
very anxious indeed about her uncle: she'd give anything or do anything
to get news of him. It's all rot, you know, to say he's run away--it's
my impression he's never gone out of Scarnham or the neighbourhood. But
where he is, and whether dead or alive, is beyond my comprehension," he
concluded, shaking his head. "If he's alive, why don't we hear
something, or find out something?"

Walford gave his companion a quick glance out of his shrewd old eyes.

"He might be under such circumstances as wouldn't admit of that there,
Mr. Neale," he said. "But come!--I've got something to tell
you--something that I