They walked on together, Delane rather unwillingly submitting to the companionship thus sprung upon him. He saw from the badge on the man's shoulder that he belonged to one of the Canadian Forestry Corps in the district, and was at once on his guard. They started in silence, till Delane, pulling his mind back with a jerk, asked his companion if he was going to Ipscombe. "No--only to Great End Farm." Darkness hid the sudden change in Delane's countenance. "You know some one there?" "No, but I want to see one of the ladies about something. There's two of them running the farm. But Miss Henderson's the boss." Cautiously, with assumed indifference, Delane began to ask questions. He discovered that his companion's name was Dempsey; and before many minutes had passed the murderer's grandson was in the full swing of his story. Delane, despising the young man for a chattering fool, listened, nevertheless, with absorbed attention to every item of his tale. Presently Dempsey said with a laugh,-- "There's been people in Ipscombe all these years as always would have it old Watson walked. I know the names of three people at least as have sworn to seein' 'im. And there's an old fellow in Ipscombe now that declares he's seen him, only t'ther day." Delane lit his pipe, and nonchalantly inquired particulars. Dempsey gave a mocking account of Halsey's story. "He's an old fool! Did you ever hear of a ghost bleedin' before!" The speaker threw back his head and laughed. "That's all rot! Besides, I don't believe in ghosts--never did. But as Miss Henderson's farmin' the very land where old Watson was done in, I thought she'd like to have the true story and first hand. And there's no one but me knows it--not first hand. So I wrote to her, and said as I would call at six o'clock this evening." "You know her?" "No--o," said the young man, hesitating. "But I somehow fancy as I may have seen her before." "Where?" "Why, in Canada. I was living on a farm, not far from Winnipeg"--he named the place. Delane suddenly dropped his pipe, and stooped to pick it up. "All right," he said, "go on." "And there was a man--a sort of gentleman--his name was Delane--on another farm about ten miles from where I was working. People talked of him no end--he was a precious bad lot! I never saw him that I know of--but I saw his wife twice. They say he was a brute to her. And she was awfully handsome. You couldn't forget her when you'd once come across her. And when I saw Miss Henderson drivin' one of the wagons in the Millsborough Harvest Festival, a fortnight ago, I could have sworn it was Mrs. Delane. But, of course, it was my mistake." "Where did you see Mrs. Delane?" "Once at her own place. I was delivering some poultry food that Delane had bought of my employer--and once at a place belongin' to a man called Tanner." "Tanner?"