"Oh, I don't know," replied Copplestone. "Set the police to work, I should think. They'll want to find out where Bassett Oliver went, where he got to, when he turned up to the Keep, saying he'd go and call on the Squire, as he'd met some man of that name in America. By-the-bye, you said you'd been in America. Did you meet anybody of the Squire's name there?" They were passing along the quay by that time, and in the light of one of its feeble gas-lamps he turned and looked narrowly at his companion. He fancied that he saw her face change in expression at his question; if there was any change, however, it was so quick that it was gone in a second. She shook her head with emphatic decision. "I?" she exclaimed. "Never! It's a most uncommon name, that. I never heard of anybody called Greyle except at Scarhaven." "The present Mr. Greyle came from America," said Copplestone. "I know, of course," she answered. "But I never met any Greyles out there. Bassett Oliver may have done, though. I know he toured in a lot of American towns--I only went to three--New York, Chicago, St. Louis. I suppose," she continued, turning to Copplestone with a suggestion of confidence in her manner, "I suppose you consider it a very damning thing that Bassett Oliver should disappear, after saying what he did to Ewbank." It was very evident to Copplestone that whether Miss Chatfield had spoken the truth or not when she said that her father had not told her of his visit to the "Admiral's Arms," she was thoroughly conversant with all the facts relating to the Oliver mystery, and he was still doubtful as to whether she was not seeking information. "Does it matter at all what I think," he answered evasively. "I've no part in this affair--I'm a mere spectator. I don't know how what you refer to might be considered by people who are accustomed to size things up. They might say all that was a mere coincidence." "But what do you think?" she said with feminine persistence. "Come, now, between ourselves?" Copplestone laughed. They had come to the edge of the wooded park in which the estate agent's house stood, and at a gate which led into it, he paused. "Between ourselves, then, I don't think at all--yet," he answered. "I haven't sized anything up. All I should say at present is that if--or as, for I'm sure the fisherman repeated accurately what he heard--as Oliver said he met somebody called Marston Greyle in America, why--I conclude he did. That's all. Now, won't you please let me see you through these dark woods?" But Addie said her farewell, and left him somewhat abruptly, and he watched her until she had passed out of the circle of light from the lamp which swung over the gate. She passed on into the shadows--and Copplestone, who had already memorized the chief geographical points of his new surroundings, noticed what she probably thought no stranger would notice--that instead of going towards her father's house, she turned up the drive to the Squire's. CHAPTER VII