"Ah!" he continued. "I can see that you know something. I have my
suspicions about this man. You can now understand my interest when I
hear of strangers in the neighbourhood. I do not believe that he was a
derelict from the sea. Do you?"

"No," I answered.

He nodded.

"Am I right," he said, "in presuming that you know he was not?"

"I know that he was not," I admitted.

His fingers ceased their beating upon the table. His face became white
and masklike.

"Go on," he said.

"I know that he came through Braster, and he asked for me. He looked in
through the window of my cottage when Colonel Ray was with me. I saw
him no more after that until I found him dead."

"Ray left you after you had seen this man's face at the window?"

"Yes."

"The wounds about the man's head and body. If he was not thrown up by
the sea, can you explain them?"

"No," I answered with a shudder.

"At the inquest it was not mentioned, I think, that he had been seen in
the village?"

"It was not," I admitted. "Most of the people were at Colonel Ray's
lecture. He spoke to one girl, a Miss Moyat."

"She did not give evidence."

"I thought," I said in a low tone, "that she had better not."

"Did you hear anything after Ray left?" he asked suddenly.

I could have cried out, but my tongue seemed dry in my throat.

"There was a sound," I muttered, "I fancied that it was a cry. But I
could not tell. The wind was blowing, and the sea and rain! No, I
could not tell."

He rose up.

"You appear," he said drily, "to have discretion. Cultivate it! It is
a great gift. I shall look for you at eleven o'clock in the morning. I
am having a large house party this week, and amongst them will be our
friends."

He left me without any further farewell, and turned slowly homewards.
When he reached the bend in the road he paused, and remained there for
several moments motionless. His eyes were fixed upon the small creek.
He seemed to be measuring the distance between it and the road. He was
still lingering there when I closed the door.

CHAPTER IX

TREACHERY

The sunlight was streaming through the window when at last my pen ceased
to move. I rubbed my eyes and looked out in momentary amazement.
Morning had already broken across the sea. My green-shaded lamp was
burning with a sickly light. The moon had turned pale and colourless
whilst I sat at my desk.

I stretched myself and, lighting a cigarette, commenced to collect my
papers. Imm