One afternoon he met Jack Beardmore by accident in the park, and Jack was struck by the stout little man’s good spirits. “Well, inspector,” said Jack, “are we any nearer the end?” Parr nodded. “I think we are,” he said. “The end of me.” This was the first definite news Jack had received of the inspector’s retirement. “But surely you’re not going? You have all the threads in your hands, Mr. Parr. They can’t be so foolish as to dispense with you at this very critical moment unless they have given up all hope of capturing the scoundrel.” Mr. Parr thought “they” had given up all hope long ago, but the attitude of head-quarters was a subject which he did not care to pursue. Jack was going down to his country house. He had not visited the place since his father’s death, and he would not have gone now but the necessity had arisen for revising a number of farm leases, and since the business could not be done in town, and there were other matters which needed local attention, he decided to spend a night in a place which had, in addition to the memory of this tragedy, memories almost as distasteful. “Going down into the country are you?” said Mr. Parr thoughtfully. “Alone?” “Yes,” said Jack, and then as he guessed the other’s thoughts, he asked eagerly, “You would not care to come down as my guest, would you, Mr. Parr? I should be delighted if you could, but I suppose this Crimson Circle investigation will keep you in town.” “I think they’ll get on very well without me,” said Mr. Parr grimly. “Yes, I think I should like to come down with you. I haven’t been to the house since your poor father’s death, and I should like to go over the grounds again.” He asked for an additional two days’ leave, and head-quarters, which would have willingly dispensed with him for the remainder of his lifetime, agreed. As Jack was leaving that night the inspector went home, packed a small Gladstone bag, and met him at the station. Neither the weather nor the roads were conducive to a long motor-car journey, and on the whole the inspector agreed that travelling by train was more comfortable. He had left a little note addressed to Derrick Yale, telling him where he was going, and added at the foot: “_It is possible circumstances may arise which would need my presence in town. Do not hesitate to send for me if this should be the case._” Remembering this postscript, Mr. Parr’s subsequent conduct was not a little odd. Chapter XXXIII. The Posters Jack did not find him a pleasant travelling companion; the inspector had brought with him a whole bundle of newspapers, in each of which he read religiously the comments upon the Crimson Circle. His host saw what he was reading, and was astonished that the man, phlegmatic as he was, could find any pleasure in the uncomplimentary references to himself which filled the journals. He said as much. The inspector put down a paper on his knees, and took off his steel-rimmed pince-nez.