He held out the two papers to Sir Clinton, who examined the letter-card first. “Posted two days ago in London—W.1. H'm! Nothing much to take hold of here, I'm afraid. ‘Dear Nick,—Sorry to miss you on Tuesday. See you when you get back to town.’ No address, and the signature's a scrawl.” He turned to the single sheet of note-paper, and as he unfolded it Wendover saw his eyebrows raised involuntarily. For a moment he seemed in doubt; then, with a glance at the two fishermen, he carefully refolded the paper and stowed it away in his pocket-book. “That will keep for the present,” he said. Over the chief constable's shoulder, Wendover caught a glimpse of a figure advancing along the sands from the direction of the hotel bathing-boxes. A towel over its shoulder showed the reason for the appearance of the stranger on the beach before breakfast. As it approached, Wendover recognised the gait. “Here's Cargill, that Australian who's staying at the hotel, Clinton. He's come down for a bathe, evidently. You'd better do the talking for us.” Cargill had evidently recognised them, for he hastened his steps and soon reached the groyne. “I shouldn't come any farther, Mr. Cargill,” Sir Clinton said politely. “There are some tracks there which we may want to look at if we have time; and I'd rather not have them mixed up with yours, if you don't mind.” Cargill halted obediently, but looked inquisitively at the group on the rock. “Is that where the murder happened?” he inquired. “How do you know about it?” Sir Clinton replied, giving question for question. “Oh, the news came up to the hotel with the milk, I expect,” the Australian answered. “I heard it from a waiter as I came through on my way to bathe. The whole staff's buzzing with it. I say, who Is it?” “Couldn't say yet,” Sir Clinton returned with an air of candour. Then he added: “I'm sorry we haven't time to talk it over just now, Mr. Cargill. This tide will be all round us in a minute, if we don't get a move on.” He turned to the fishermen. “We'll shift the body into your boat now, and then you can row slowly along towards the village. Don't hurry; and don't go ashore till you see Inspector Armadale there. He'll take the body off your hands. You understand? Thanks.” The boat was brought close alongside the natural quay and the body of Staveley put aboard without mishap. At a sign from Sir Clinton, the boat put out into the bay. Armadale seemed a little at a loss over the procedure; but he made no audible protest. Cargill remained on the other side of the groyne, obviously taking the keenest interest in the whole affair.