He sent a note round to Ursula putting forward Carver’s suggestion and received a reply by return, extending her invitation. After mature thought, Tab decided that it was not at all a bad idea to have Carver with him. It would give the girl an opportunity of making friends with one who might, in certain circumstances, be a difficult man to satisfy. She could not have too many friends, he thought, and was almost relieved when Carver hurried into the station a few minutes before the last train to Hertford left. It was dark when they arrived and by prearrangement they did not speak in the long walk which separated them from Stone Cottage, but in single file, keeping to the shadow of the road, they marched forward without meeting with a soul. When at last they came to the highway in which Stone Cottage was situated, they proceeded with greater caution. But there was nobody in sight and they reached the garden unobserved. Ursula was standing in the doorway to welcome them. “I’ve had all the blinds pulled down,” she said, “and Inspector Carver’s coming is rather providential, for my woman has had to go home--her mother has been taken ill. I hope you don’t mind appearing in the role of a chaperone,” she smiled at Carver. “Even that is not an unusual one,” he replied unsmiling. “Where does she live, the mother of your servant?” “At Felborough. Poor Margaret only had time to catch the last train.” “How did Margaret know her mother was ill?” asked the inspector. “Did she have a telegram?” Ursula nodded. “Late this afternoon?” “Yes,” said the girl in surprise. “Why do you ask?” “She got the telegram in time to catch the train to town; in time, too, to catch a train for Felborough. That was why I asked. You did not see the man last night?” “I didn’t come down until this morning,” she answered troubled. “Do you think that Margaret has been sent for by--somebody--that it was a ruse to get her away?” “I don’t know,” said Carver. “In my profession we always apply the worst construction and we are generally right. What time do you usually go to bed?” “At ten o’clock in the country,” she said. “Then at ten o’clock you will go up to your room, put on your lights, and after a reasonable time, put them out again. You may, if you wish, come down, but you must be prepared to sit in the dark, and if you want to talk, you must carry on your conversation in whispers.” A rare smile softened his face. “We shall probably all be feeling a little foolish in the morning, but I would rather feel foolish than miss the opportunity of meeting the man in black.” She gave them supper, and after the men had helped clear away the remains of the meal, Tab, at her request, filled his pipe. Carver said he did not wish to smoke. Conversation, for some reason, seemed to flag. They sat silently about the table, each busy with his own thoughts. Suddenly Ursula said: