“Would you recognise this gunman if you saw him again?” Cargill shook his head. “In that light you couldn't have told whether it was a man or a woman, much less recognise 'em.” Before Wendover could say anything more, the door opened and Dr. Rafford came in, followed by Inspector Armadale. “H'm!” said Sir Clinton. “I don't think we need trouble you any more just now, Mr. Cargill. By the time the doctor's fixed you up you'll not want to be bothered with an inquisition, I suspect. I'll drop in to-morrow and see how you're getting on. Good night. I hope it's not a bad business.” He turned to Armadale. “You needn't worry Mr. Cargill, inspector. I've got the whole story, and can tell you what you need.” Wendover and Armadale followed him from the room, leaving the doctor to do his work undisturbed. Sir Clinton led the way to his own room, where he gave the inspector the gist of what they had learned. “And now, inspector,” he concluded, “perhaps you'll tell us how you managed to pop up so opportunely. How did you come to hear of this affair?” “Mrs. Fleetwood brought me up in her car, sir. It seems she drove to the doctor's first of all, and, as he wanted a minute or two to collect bandages and so forth, she brought her car round to the place where I'm staying and asked for me. I was a bit taken aback when I saw her—couldn't make out what it was all about at the first glance. She got me on board and was off to the doctor's before you could say: ‘Snap!’ we picked him up and she drove us both up here. On the way she told me her side of the business.” “And that was?” “By her way of it, she'd wanted to make sure of catching the first post in the morning—an important letter, she said. She'd taken her car and driven in to Lynden Sands post office to post it, for fear of the hotel post not catching the first collection. Then she was driving back again when she heard someone calling, just as she came to the corner at Flatt's cottage. She turned on her horn and came round the corner; and almost at once she saw, in the beam of her head-lights, Cargill lying on the road. So she stopped and got down. In a minute or so, up came the gang from Flatt's cottage; and between the lot of them they got Cargill into the car and she brought him home.” “Did she see anyone on the road except Cargill?” “I asked her that, sir. She says she saw no one there. No one was on the road between Cargill and the corner.” “Slipped off the road, evidently. There are a lot of rocks by the roadside thereabouts, and a man could hide himself quick enough among them, if he were put to it,” Sir Clinton pointed out. The inspector seemed to find the suggestion unsatisfying. “There's just one point you've overlooked, I think, sir,” he criticised. “Remember what Cargill told you. With the light as it was, he couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman who shot him.” Wendover flamed up at the inspector's insinuation.