“Nary step. Why the blazes didn’t you watch him?” “After all, sir, we’ve not a thing against him.” “Not now?” “Well, sir, it’s not criminal to disappear. But I don’t mind saying it’s odd, quite odd.” “Oh, I expect Geoffrey and the angel wife murdered him too. Just to round it off, Lomas, old thing.” “You’re very merry and bright,” Lomas grumbled. “I wish you’d tell me how this helps us. Why should he bolt now?” “There is another unknown quantity somewhere,” Reggie admitted. The telephone claimed Lomas. He took it up, and his face was eloquent as he listened. He put it down again very gently. “Afraid you’re right out of it, Fortune. Herbert Charlecote didn’t bolt. Herbert Charlecote has been found drowned in the Basingstoke Canal.” “Good Lord, sir!” the Superintendent exclaimed. “Pretty conclusive, what?” Lomas shrugged. “And why the Basingstoke Canal?” said Reggie placidly. “Lots of nice places to drown in nearer home. I ask you, why the Basingstoke Canal?” Lomas and his Superintendent looked at each other. “It really is a crazy case,” Lomas said slowly, “I don’t quite----” Reggie jumped up. “Oh, come on. Let’s go and look at him. My car’s outside. Where is he?” “Woking. Half a minute.” Lomas rang his bell and turned to his papers. So Reggie went down first. He dismissed his chauffeur with some long instructions, and himself took the chauffeur’s seat. Superintendent Bell joined him. “Darker and darker, sir, isn’t it?” “Changeable weather,” Reggie said. “Come on, Lomas, all aboard! Are we downhearted? No!” The car shot forward. And when it stopped in Woking: “Is my hair white, Fortune?” Lomas said. The two stood humbly aside while the expert was busy with the corpse. “As often as I’ve seen this game, sir, I’ll never like it,” Bell said, and Lomas nodded. But Reggie Fortune whistled as he worked. When he turned from the body and put a scrap of something in his pocket-book--“Well, what is it?” Lomas said. “He was drowned, I suppose?” “He was drowned all right--about tea-time last night. Say at dusk. Now for the scene of death. Where is it?” “Just by a bridge on a by-road somewhere between here and Byfleet Station.” “I ask you, why does a gentleman of fashion about to commit suicide come and look for a bridge on a by-road somewhere between here and Byfleet Station?” “Somebody’s took some pains in this Charlecote business,” the Superintendent said. Reggie laughed. “The Superintendent touches the spot--as ever. Come on!” He stopped his car some distance from the bridge, and they went forward on foot.