ght at the inn; their existence was a lifelong struggle with Nature
for a bare subsistence. Most of them had been born in the beach-stone
cottages where their fathers had been born before them, and most of them
would die, as their fathers had died, in the little damp bedrooms where
they had first seen the light, passing away, as their fathers had passed
away, listening to the sound of the North Sea restlessly beating against
the breakwater. That sound was never out of their ears while they lived,
and it was the dirge to which they died. Such was their life, but they
knew no other, and wished no other.

Colwyn was early astir the following morning, and after breakfast went
out. His purpose was to try to discover something which would throw
light on Ronald's appearance at Flegne. With that object he scoured the
country for some miles in the direction of Heathfield, for he deemed the
possibility of Ronald having come by that route worth inquiring into.
But his time was wasted; none of his inquiries brought to light anything
to suggest that Ronald had ever been in the district before.

When he returned to the village the day was more than half spent. As he
entered the inn, he encountered Charles, who stopped when he saw him.

"There are two men in the bar asking to see you, sir," he said, in his
soft whisper. "Duney and Backlos are their names. They say they saw you
in the bar last night, and they would like to speak to you privately, if
you have no objection."

"Show them into the bar parlour," the detective said. "And, Charles, you
might ask Ann to let me have a little lunch when they are gone."

Colwyn proceeded to the bar parlour. A moment or two afterwards the
waiter ushered in two men and withdrew, closing the door after him.

In response to Colwyn's request, his two visitors seated themselves
awkwardly, but they seemed to have considerable difficulty in stating
the object of their visit. Duney, one of the men who had helped to
recover Mr. Glenthorpe's body from the pit, was a short, thickset,
hairy-faced man, with round surprised eyes, which he kept intently fixed
upon the detective's face, as though seeking inspiration for speech from
that source. The other man, Backlos, was a tall, hawk-featured man with
a sweeping black moustache, who needed only gaudy habiliments to make
him the ideal pirate king of the comic opera stage. It was he who spoke
first.

"If you please, ma'aster, we uns come to you thinkin' as y