"It was in a garden," said Adele, "a quiet sort, of place. I think I was walking behind him. I don't know how I got there, but he didn't see me. All the same, he kept looking round, as if he was afraid he was being watched. Presently we came to a place where there was a stone pedestal standing. It wasn't exactly a pillar--it wasn't high enough. And it was too high for a seat. Well, he stared at this for a moment; then he looked around again, very cautiously, and then--it sounds idiotic, but he began to prod the turf with his stick. At first he did it just casually, here and there: but, after a little, he started prodding at regular intervals, methodically. The ground was quite soft, and his stick seemed to go in like a skewer. Suddenly he seemed to hear something or somebody, for he listened very carefully, and then walked on tiptoe to the pedestal and leaned up against it as if he were resting. The next moment somebody--some man in ordinary clothes came out of...." She hesitated. "I don't know whether it was some bushes or a wall he came out of. Some bushes, I guess. Any way, he appeared, and--don't laugh--gave him a green tomato. Then I woke up." "And this is the man you saw?" cried Daphne, pointing. Adele nodded. "Dress and everything. He was wearing the same plumed hat and that identical coat, buttoned all down the front, with the pockets low down on either side. And I'll never forget his face. That's a wonderful picture. It's life-like." "What an extraordinary thing!" said I. Then I turned to Vandy. "Has this portrait ever been reproduced?" He did not seem to hear me. With dropped jaw and bulging eyes, the fellow was staring at Adele, staring.... Suddenly, as with an effort, he pulled himself together. "Was that all you saw?" he said hoarsely. Adele pondered. "I think so," she said slowly. "Except that there were some words carved on the pedestal. PER ... IMP ... PERIMP, ... No. That wasn't it. Something like that. Not English. I can't remember." "Ah!" Berry took up the running. "You say the merchant was prodding the ground?" he said. "That's right. It sounds silly, but----" "Not at all," said Berry excitedly. "He was looking for something. It's as clear as daylight." He turned to the picture. "That's William Pleydell, isn't it, Vandy? Seventeenth-century bloke. The one Pepys mentions." My cousin nodded abstractedly. With unseeing eyes he was staring out of a window. It was patent that Adele's recital had affected him strangely.... Berry laid a hand on his arm. "Where's the book you wrote?" he said gently. "That may throw some light on it." One of our hostesses turned, as though she would fetch the volume. "It went to be rebound yesterday," cried Vandy in a strained, penetrating voice. His sister stopped and stood still in her tracks. A moment later she had turned back and was murmuring a confirmation. Jonah, who had been busy with a pencil and the back of an envelope, limped towards us from one of the windows.