“Not very much; he’s got a cut or two,” said the other calmly. He made no attempt to disguise the happenings of that night. “He came to my assistance, poor brute! This fellow nearly got him. In fact, poor old Bhag was knocked out, but went after them like a brick.” “What hat was that man wearing—the brown man?” “Keji? I don’t know. I suppose he wore a hat, but I didn’t notice it. Why?” “I was merely asking,” said Michael carelessly. “Perhaps he lost it in the caves.” He watched the other narrowly as he spoke. “Caves? I’ve never heard about those. What are they? Are there any caves near by?” asked Sir Gregory innocently. “You’ve a wonderful grip of the topography of the county, Brixan. I’ve been living here off and on for twenty years, and I lose myself every time I go into Chichester!” CHAPTER XXX THE ADVERTISEMENT THE question of the caves intrigued Michael more than any feature the case had presented. He bethought himself of Mr. Longvale, whose knowledge of the country was encyclopædic. That gentleman was out, but Michael met him, driving his antique car from Chichester. To say that he saw him is to mistake facts. The sound of that old car was audible long before it came into sight around a bend of the road. Michael drew up, Longvale following his example, and parked his car behind that ancient ’bus. “Yes, it is rather noisy,” admitted the old man, rubbing his bald head with a brilliant bandana handkerchief. “I’m only beginning to realize the fact of late years. Personally, I do not think that a noiseless car could give me as much satisfaction. One feels that something is happening.” “You ought to buy a ——” said Michael with a smile, as he mentioned the name of a famous car. “I thought of doing so,” said the other seriously, “but I love old things—that is my eccentricity.” Michael questioned him upon the caves, and, to his surprise, the old man immediately returned an affirmative. “Yes, I’ve heard of them frequently. When I was a boy, my father told me that the country round was honeycombed with caves, and that, if anybody was lucky enough to find them, they would discover great stores of brandy. Nobody has found them, as far as I know. There used to be an entrance over there.” He pointed in the direction of Griff Tower. “But many years ago——” He retold the familiar story of the landslide and of the passing out of two companies of gallant knights and squires, which probably the old man had got from the same source of information as Michael had drawn upon. “The popular legend was that a subterranean river ran into the sea near Selsey Bill—of course, some distance beneath the surface of the water. But, as you know, country people live on such legends. In all probability it is nothing but a legend.” Inspector Lyle was waiting for the detective when he arrived, with news of a startling character. “The advertisement appeared in this morning’s _Daily Star_,” he said.