Hench had many conversations about these matters with Mrs. Bell, and gradually came to know a great deal during the next few days. His uncle, it appeared, had been very unpopular, while Gwen was the reverse. Generally, it was quite believed amongst the ancients of the village that the Squire had been murdered by the unknown tramp, who was a poacher, and the verdict was that it served the dead man right, because he was always so hard on the poor. Owain was tolerably sure that the Cookley people would have been quite sorry had the presumed criminal been arrested. But as he was the person in question, he was glad that they had not been troubled to mourn in this way. All the same, in spite of all his questioning, he was unable to learn anything likely to show who had met Squire Evans in Parley Wood. So far his mission to Cookley had proved a complete failure. Then Destiny intervened to conduct him a step further on the dark path, which was leading him he knew not where. Towards the end of the week, and when he was beginning to feel safer and more at home in the village, he had an adventure, the consequences of which were far-reaching. Owain had gone for a long walk into the surrounding country, and was returning leisurely under the many-coloured glories of the sunset. The weather was warm, the road was dusty, and he paused by a stile to remove his straw hat and allow the breeze to cool his heated brow. Before him was the church, round the square ivy-clothed tower of which the jackdaws were flying; to the right was the road, melting almost imperceptibly into the narrow village street, while to the left ran the same road curving abruptly round a corner into the agricultural lands. So dangerous was this bend in the highway that it was marked with one of those red triangles elevated on a post to warn motorists and cyclists not to move at too great a pace. The injunction was very much needed, and never more so than in the present instance.