at
some time, and--forgotten all about it."

Stafford spoke--with unnecessary abruptness, in Copplestone's opinion.

"I don't think it very likely that any one would forget Bassett Oliver,"
he said. "He isn't--or wasn't--the sort of man anybody could forget, once
they'd met him. Anyhow--did he come to your house yesterday afternoon as
this man suggests?"

Marston Greyle drew himself up. He looked Stafford up and down. Then he
made a slight gesture to the girl, whose face had already assumed a
troubled expression.

"If I had seen Mr. Bassett Oliver yesterday, sir, we should not be
discussing his possible whereabouts now," said Greyle, icily. "Are you
coming, Audrey?"

The girl hesitated, glanced at Copplestone, and then walked away with her
cousin. Stafford sniffed contemptuously.

"Ass!" he muttered. "Couldn't he see that what I meant was that Oliver
must either have been mistaken, or have referred to some other Greyle
whom he met? Hang his pride! Well, now," he went on, turning to the
fisherman, "you're dead certain about what you've told us?"

"As certain as mortal man can be of aught there is!" answered the
informant. "Sure certain, mister."

"Make a note of it, constable," said Stafford. "Mr. Oliver was last seen
going up the path to the Keep, having said he meant to call on Mr.
Marston Greyle. I'll call on you again tomorrow morning. Copplestone!" he
went on, drawing his companion away, "I'm off to Norcaster--I shall see
the police there and get detectives. There's something seriously wrong
here--and by heaven, we've got to get to the bottom of it! Now, look
here--will you stay here for the night, so as to be on the spot? I'll
come back first thing in the morning and bring your luggage--I can't come
sooner, for there are heaps of business matters to deal with. You
will--good! Now I can just catch a train. Copplestone!--keep your eyes
and ears open. It's my firm belief--I don't know why--that there's been
foul play. Foul play!"

Stafford hurried away up hill to the station, and Copplestone, after
waiting a minute or two, turned along the quay on the north of the
bay--following Audrey Greyle, who was in front, alone.

CHAPTER IV

THE ESTATE AGENT

Copplestone had kept a sharp watch on Marston Greyle and his cousin when
they walked off, and he had seen that they had parted at a point a little
farther along the shore road--the man turning up into the wood, the girl
going forward along the quay w