At the turn of the avenue he paused, at the spot where Goddard had attacked him. There was nothing to be seen at first, for the road was hard and dry and there was no trace of the scuffle; but as the squire looked about he spied his hat, lying in the ditch, and picked it up. It was heavy with the morning dew and the brim was broken and bent where Goddard's weapon had struck it. Hard by in a heap of driven oak leaves lay the weapon itself, which Mr. Juxon examined curiously. It was a heavy piece of hewn oak, evidently very old, and at one end a thick iron spike was driven through, the sharp point projecting upon one side and the wrought head upon the other. He turned it over in his hands and realised that he had narrowly escaped his death. Then he laid the hat and the club together and threw a handful of leaves over them, intending to take them to the Hall at a later hour, and he turned to go upon his way towards the cottage. But as he turned he saw two men coming towards him, and now not twenty yards away. His heart sank, for one of the two was Thomas Gall the village constable; the other was a quiet-looking individual with grey whiskers, plainly dressed and unassuming in appearance. Instinctively the squire knew that Gall's companion must be a detective. He was startled, and taken altogether unawares; but the men were close upon him and there was nothing to be done but to face them boldly. Gall made his usual half military salute as he came up, and the man in plain clothes raised his hat politely. "The gentleman from Lunnon, sir," said Gall by way of introduction, assuming an air of mysterious importance. "Yes?" said Mr. Juxon interrogatively. "Do you wish to speak to me?" "The gentleman's come on business, sir. In point of fact, sir, it's the case we was speakin' of lately." The squire knew very well what was the matter. Indeed, he had wondered that the detective had not arrived sooner. That did not make it any easier to receive him, however; on the contrary, if he had come on the previous day matters would have been much simpler. "Very well, Gall," answered Mr. Juxon. "I am much obliged to you for bringing Mr.--" he paused and looked at the man in plain clothes. "Booley, sir," said the detective. "Thank you--yes--for bringing Mr. Booley so far. You may go home, Gall. If we need your services we will send to your house." "It struck me, sir," remarked Gall with a bland smile, "as perhaps I might be of use--prefeshnal in fact, sir." "I will send for you," said the detective, shortly. The manners of the rural constabulary had long ceased to amuse him. Gall departed rather reluctantly, but to make up for being left out of the confidential interview which was to follow, he passed his thumb round his belt and thrust out his portly chest as he marched down the avenue. He subsequently spoke very roughly to a little boy who was driving an old sheep to the butcher's at the other end of the village.