n of danger
which would result in his breaking his neck. Bassett Oliver never left
Scarhaven Wood!"

Copplestone made no comment on this direct assertion.

Instead, after a brief silence, he asked Mrs. Greyle a question.

"You knew Mr. Oliver--personally?"

"Five and twenty years ago--yes," she answered. "I was on the stage
myself before my marriage. But I have never met him since then. I have
seen him, of course, at the local theatres."

"He--you won't mind my asking?" said Copplestone, diffidently, "he didn't
know that you lived here?"

Mrs. Greyle smiled, somewhat mysteriously.

"Not at all--my name wouldn't have conveyed anything to him," she
answered. "He never knew whom I married. Otherwise, if he met some one
named Marston Greyle in America he would have connected him with me, and
have made inquiry about me, and had he known I lived here, he would have
called. It is odd, Audrey, that if your cousin met Mr. Oliver over there
he should have forgotten him. For one doesn't easily forget a man of
reputation--and Mr. Oliver was that of course!--and on the other hand,
Marston Greyle is not a common name. Did you ever hear the name before,
Mr. Copplestone?"

"Only in connection with your own family--I have read of the Greyles of
Scarhaven," replied Copplestone. "But, after all, I suppose it is not
confined to your family. There may be Greyles in America. Well--it's all
very queer," he went on, as he rose to leave. "May I come in tomorrow and
tell you what's being done?--I'm sure Stafford means to leave no stone
unturned--he's tremendously keen about it."

"Do!" said Mrs. Greyle, heartily. "But the probability is that you'll see
us out and about in the morning--we spend most of our time out of doors,
having little else to do."

Copplestone went away feeling more puzzled than ever.

Now that he was alone, for the first time since meeting Audrey Greyle on
the beach, he was able to reflect on certain events of the afternoon in
uninterrupted fashion. He thought over them as he walked back towards the
"Admiral's Arms." It was certainly a strange thing that Bassett Oliver,
after remarking to the fisherman that he had known a Mr. Marston Greyle
in America, and hearing that the Squire of Scarhaven had been in that
country, should have gone up to the house saying that he would call on
the Squire and should never have been seen again. It was certainly
strange that if this Marston Greyle, of Scarhaven, had met Bassett O