When Tomlin admitted him to the Hare and Hounds, he buttonholed the
landlord, who, at that hour, was usually somewhat obfuscated.

"Sir," said the detective gravely, "I am told that you Steynholme folk
indulge occasionally in such frivolities as amateur theatricals?"

"Once in a way, sir. Once in a way. Afore I lock up the bar, will you--"

"Not to-night. I've mixed port and beer already, and I'm only a little
fellow. Now you, Mr. Tomlin, can mix anything, I fancy?"

"I've tried a few combinations in me time, sir."

"But, about these theatrical performances--is there any scenery,
costumes, 'props' as actors call them?"

"Yes, sir. They're stored in the loft over the club-room--the room where
the inquest wur held."

"What, _here_?"

Furneaux's shrill cry scared Mr. Tomlin.

"Y-yes, sir," he stuttered.

"Is that my candle?" said the detective tragically. "I'm tired, dead
beat. To-night, Mr. Tomlin, you are privileged to see the temporary wreck
of a noble mind. God wot, 'tis a harrowing spectacle."

Furneaux skipped nimbly upstairs. Tomlin proceeded to lock up.

"It's good for trade," he mumbled, "but I'll be glad when these 'ere
Lunnon gents clears out. They worry me, they do. Fair gemme a turn, 'e
did. A tec', indeed! He's nothin' but a play-hactor hisself!"

CHAPTER X

THE CASE AGAINST GRANT

Next morning, after a long conference with Superintendent Fowler, from
which, to his great chagrin, P. C. Robinson was excluded, Furneaux went
to the post office, dispatched an apparently meaningless telegram to a
code address, and exchanged a few orthodox remarks with Doris and her
father about the continued fine weather. While he was yet at the counter,
Ingerman crossed the road and entered the chemist's shop.

"Let me see," said the detective musingly, "by committing a slight
trespass on your left-hand neighbor's garden, can I reach the yard
of the inn?"

"What the eye doesn't see the heart doesn't grieve over," smiled Doris.
"Mrs. Jefferson went to Knoleworth early to-day, and took her maid. By
shopping at the stores there, they save their fares, and have a day out
each week."

"May I go that way, then?" he said. "Suppose you send that goggle-eyed
skivvy of yours on an errand."

This was done, and Furneaux made the desired transit.

Now, Tomlin, to whom the comings and goings of all and sundry formed the
staple of the day's gossip, had seen the detective go out, but could
"take his sollum dav