Suddenly his thoughts were brought back to the present. From behind the laurels of the curving drive there came a low, clanking sound, which swelled into the clatter and jingle of an ancient car. Then from round the corner there swung an old-fashioned Wolseley, with a fresh-complexioned, yellow-moustached young man at the wheel. Sir Henry sprang to his feet at the sight, and then sat down once more. He rose again as a minute later the footman announced Mr. Ronald Barker. It was an early visit, but Barker was Sir Henry's intimate friend. As each was a fine shot, horseman, and billiard-player, there was much in common between the two men, and the younger (and poorer) was in the habit of spending at least two evenings a week at Walcot Old Place. Therefore, Sir Henry advanced cordially with outstretched hand to welcome him. "You're an early bird this morning," said he. "What's up? If you are going over to Lewes we could motor together." But the younger man's demeanour was peculiar and ungracious. He disregarded the hand which was held out to him, and he stood pulling at his own long moustache and staring with troubled, questioning eyes at the county magistrate. "Well, what's the matter?" asked the latter. Still the young man did not speak. He was clearly on the edge of an interview which he found it most difficult to open. His host grew impatient. "You don't seem yourself this morning. What on earth is the matter? Anything upset you?" "Yes," said Ronald Barker, with emphasis. "What has?" "_You_ have." Sir Henry smiled. "Sit down, my dear fellow. If you have any grievance against me, let me hear it." Barker sat down. He seemed to be gathering himself for a reproach. When it did come it was like a bullet from a gun. "Why did you rob me last night?" The magistrate was a man of iron nerve. He showed neither surprise nor resentment. Not a muscle twitched upon his calm, set face. "Why do you say that I robbed you last night?" "A big, tall fellow in a motor-car stopped me on the Mayfield road. He poked a pistol in my face and took my purse and my watch. Sir Henry, that man was you." The magistrate smiled. "Am I the only big, tall man in the district? Am I the only man with a motor-car?" "Do you think I couldn't tell a Rolls-Royce when I see it--I, who spend half my life on a car and the other half under it? Who has a Rolls-Royce about here except you?" "My dear Barker, don't you think that such a modern highwayman as you describe would be more likely to operate outside his own district? How many hundred Rolls-Royces are there in the South of England?"