It was unmistakably a revolver cartridge. He marked the spot where it had been found by jamming his walking stick into the ground and continued his search, but without success. “I am afraid we shall find nothing more here,” said T. X., after half an hour's further search. He stood with his chin in his hand, a frown on his face. “Mansus,” he said, “suppose there were three people here, Lexman, the money lender and a third witness. And suppose this third person for some reason unknown was interested in what took place between the two men and he wanted to watch unobserved. Isn't it likely that if he, as I think, instigated the meeting, he would have chosen this place because this particular hedge gave him a chance of seeing without being seen?” Mansus thought. “He could have seen just as well from either of the other hedges, with less chance of detection,” he said, after a long pause. T. X. grinned. “You have the makings of a brain,” he said admiringly. “I agree with you. Always remember that, Mansus. That there was one occasion in your life when T. X. Meredith and you thought alike.” Mansus smiled a little feebly. “Of course from the point of view of the observer this was the worst place possible, so whoever came here, if they did come here, dropping revolver bullets about, must have chosen the spot because it was get-at-able from another direction. Obviously he couldn't come down the road and climb in without attracting the attention of the Greek who was waiting for Mr. Lexman. We may suppose there is a gate farther along the road, we may suppose that he entered that gate, came along the field by the side of the hedge and that somewhere between here and the gate, he threw away his cigar.” “His cigar!” said Mansus in surprise. “His cigar,” repeated T. X., “if he was alone, he would keep his cigar alight until the very last moment.” “He might have thrown it into the road,” said Mansus. “Don't jibber,” said T. X., and led the way along the hedge. From where they stood they could see the gate which led on to the road about a hundred yards further on. Within a dozen yards of that gate, T. X. found what he had been searching for, a half-smoked cigar. It was sodden with rain and he picked it up tenderly. “A good cigar, if I am any judge,” he said, “cut with a penknife, and smoked through a holder.” They reached the gate and passed through. Here they were on the road again and this they followed until they reached another cross road that to the left inclining southward to the new Eastbourne Road and that to the westward looking back to the Lewes-Eastbourne railway. The rain had obliterated much that T. X. was looking for, but presently he found a faint indication of a car wheel. “This is where she turned and backed,” he said, and walked slowly to the road on the left, “and this is where she stood. There is the grease from her engine.”