Bending well forward, and making as little noise as possible, I set out on my journey. At the first corner I came across one of those small ponds which are a usual feature in most Essex fields. I pulled up for a moment, and, stooping down over the edge, had a good look at myself in the water. It was no wonder Christine had been startled when she saw my face. The whole of my right cheek was covered with blood, and, though the cause was nothing worse than a superficial scratch, I must have been a pretty ghastly object to bob up suddenly from behind a hedge. Fortunately my collar was still undamaged, and with the aid of a wet handkerchief I soon managed to remove most of the gore. Even then I looked rather as if I had been fighting with a cat, but, after all, I intended to go straight back to the island, and there would only be Bascomb to criticise my appearance. Keeping the handkerchief pressed to my cheek, I continued my journey up the hill. I had had quite enough of scrambling through blackberry bushes, and it was therefore with some satisfaction that, as I drew near the top, I noticed a gate leading out of the fields. I approached it with some care, and, after making certain that there was no one in sight, I climbed over and dropped down into the main road. I recognised the place instantly. I was within a few yards of the very identical spot where Ross and I had so nearly run into de Roda, and I could not help regarding the fact as a favorable omen. Anyhow, it gave me a sort of renewed faith in my good luck, and, pushing forward as far as the end of the road, I peered cautiously round the corner. It was all I could do to stop shouting out "Tally Ho!" A couple of hundred yards below me a solitary figure was crossing the village green, and even at that distance I could see plainly enough that it was Manning. He was walking rapidly in the opposite direction, evidently making for the Shalston road, which turned out of the village just above Mrs. Summers' shop. I could feel my heart beginning to beat a shade quicker as I stared down at him. There was already an account between us which I had every intention of settling up in full, but it was not entirely the prospect of punching his head that was responsible for my sensations. I had a steadily growing conviction that for some sinister reason of his own Dr. Manning was playing a very active part in the mystery that surrounded me. Everything I knew about the man filled me with suspicion. Why had he been so anxious to get hold of the island, why had he tried to put a doubt in my mind with regard to Bascomb's honesty, and how in the name of goodness did he come to be on intimate terms with the de Rodas? In spite of his apparent friendliness I had mistrusted him from the first, and now, as I stood there gazing after his retreating figure, I felt more certain than ever that my original instinct had been absolutely sound.