"I don't want to appear emotional," I concluded, "but I must admit the sight of your ugly mug filled me with the most inexpressible joy." I paused to moisten my lips, which were as dry as parchment. "That's as far as we've got up to the present, Robert," I added, "and now for heaven's sake let's have a drink." "Well, the first thing's easy," remarked Bobby, as he accepted the tumbler which I offered him. "Here's to Christine, and if she's half as nice as she sounds you're the luckiest beggar that ever trod this planet." We drained the toast in silence, and then, putting down his glass, he hoisted himself out of his chair and walked across to the window. "That's that," he observed grimly, "and----" I saw him pull up with curious abruptness, and stand there perfectly still staring out into the garden. "What's the matter?" I demanded. He looked back over his shoulder with a queer smile on his lips. "I don't know if you're expecting any visitors," he began. Before he could conclude his sentence I was standing alongside of him. Crossing the lawn and coming directly towards the house were two figures. One was an enormously stout, broad-shouldered man, whom I recognised immediately as the landlord of the Gunner's Arms; the other was a police sergeant in uniform. Bobby was the first to break the silence. "We seem to have finished the story just in time," he said drily. Without making any reply, I unlatched the window and threw it open. The two men came up to the verandah side by side and halted exactly in front of us. For a moment nobody spoke; then the landlord, who was breathing heavily, stepped forward and touched his cap. "Beg pardon, Mr. Dryden," he said huskily, "but this is Sergeant 'Umphries of Torrington. He wants to have a word with you." "Why, certainly," I replied. "Come inside, both of you." I moved back, and, mounting the verandah, they tramped in heavily over the threshold. "I expect you know Commander Dean," I added, "at all events by sight." There was an exchange of salutes, followed once more by an embarrassing silence. "Well," I said encouragingly, "what is it? Anything I can do for you?" Sergeant Humphries cleared his throat "I'm afraid I come on rather an unpleasant business, Mr. Dryden," he began. "I believe you have a man in your employment name of John Bascombe?" A sudden feeling of impending tragedy tightened round my heart. "That's right," I said. "He has been with me ever since I came here." "Do you happen to know where he is now?" I shook my head. "He went ashore last night without my permission, and so far he hasn't returned." There was another pause. "He won't return," said the Sergeant, "and if you want to know the reason why I can tell you, Mr. Dryden. At the present moment he's lying dead in the stable at the Gunner's Arms." CHAPTER FIFTEEN Although I was half prepared for what he said, the announcement left me momentarily dumb.