ish-like
flavour as to suggest that they might have been laid by the gannet in its
lifetime, and stowed away by a careful Cornish housewife until some
stranger chanced to visit that remote spot. Barrant was hungry enough to
gulp them down, though with a wry face. He had just finished a second cup
of very strong tea when he heard the clatter of a vehicle outside, and the
girl thrust a tousled dark head through the door to announce the arrival
of Mr. Crows and his wagonette.

Barrant paid for his food and went out. An ancient hooded vehicle filled
the narrow way, drawn by a large shaggy horse which turned a gleaming eye
on the detective as he emerged, and snorted loudly, as though resenting
the prospect of having to drag his additional weight back to the town. The
driver sat motionless on the box, watching the caperings of the tipsy
tin-miners through the half-open door: a melancholy death'shead of a man,
with a preternaturally long white face, and a figure shrouded in a dark
cloak, looking as though he might be Death itself, waiting for the
carousers to drop dead of apoplexy before carrying them off in his
funereal equipage. In reply to Barrant's question he informed him that the
vehicle was destined for Penzance, and immediately the detective entered
the dark interior he drove off with disconcerting suddenness, as though he
had been waiting for him only, and was determined to make sure of him
before he had time to escape.

The shaggy horse lumbered forward at an unwilling trot, like an animal
disillusioned with life. Soon they cleared the churchtown and entered the
darkness of the moors. A long and tiring day disposed Barrant to slumber.
He had begun to nod sleepily when the wagonette stopped with a jerk which
shook him into wakefulness. He was able to make out that they had reached
the highest elevation of the moors--the cross-roads from where Inspector
Dawfield had shown him Flint House in the distance that afternoon. He
could just discern the outlines of the wayside cross and the old Druidical
monolith, both pointing to the silent heavens in unwonted religious amity.

"Good ebenen', Garge." A lusty voice hailed out of the darkness, and then
Barrant was aware of somebody entering the wagonette, a large male body
which plumped heavily on his knees as it started again.

"Bed pardin, I'm sure. Aw dedn't knaw Crows had another passenger
to-night." A husky voice spoke unseen. "'Taint often it 'appens." There
was the spl