"That he would not live long," said the doctor. "Finding that he was going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster, where there is a most excellent school of medicine, I advised him to get the best specialist he could from there, and to put himself under his treatment. But my impression was that he had already reached a very, very serious stage." "You think he was then likely to die suddenly?" suggested Gilling. "It was quite possible. I should not have been surprised to hear of his death," answered Dr. Tretheway. "He was, in short, very ill indeed." "You never heard anything?" inquired Gilling. "Nothing at all--though I often wondered. Of course," said the doctor with a smile, "they were only chance visitors--I often have trans-atlantic passengers drop in--and they forget that a physician would sometimes like to know how a case submitted to him in that way has turned out. No, I never heard any more." "Did they give you any address, either of them?" asked Copplestone, seeing that Gilling had no more to ask. "No," replied the doctor, "they did not. I knew of course, from what they told me that Mr. Greyle had come off the _Araconda_ the night before, and that he was passing on. No--I only gathered that they were going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster from the fact that Mr. Greyle asked if a journey to that place would be too much for him--he said with a laugh, that over there in the United States a journey of five hundred miles would be considered a mere jaunt! He was very plucky, poor fellow, but--" Dr. Tretheway ended with a significant shake of the head, and his two visitors left him and went out into the autumn sunlight. "Copplestone!" said Gilling as they walked away. "That chap--the real Marston Greyle--is dead! That's as certain as that we're alive! And now the next thing is to find out where he died and when. And by George, that's going to be a big job!" "How are you going to set about it?" asked Copplestone. "It seems as if we were up against a blank wall, now." "Not at all, my son!" retorted Gilling, cheerfully. "One step at a time--that's the sure thing to go on, in my calling. We've found out a lot here, and quickly, too. And--we know where our next step lies. Bristol! Like looking for needles in a bundle of hay? Not a bit of it. If those two broke their journey at Bristol, they'd have to stop at an hotel. Well, now we'll adjourn to Bristol--bearing in mind that we're on the track of Peter Chatfield!" CHAPTER XVII THE OLD PLAYBILL