“She was called as a witness and came out of it pretty badly, as far as I can remember. I don’t read those things much myself.” “All the same, you seem to have got your knife into her pretty thoroughly,” remarked Fayre dryly. The doctor sat silent for a moment. “I’m afraid I rather let myself go on the subject of stupidity,” he said at last. “It’s a thing we doctors are always up against and we get to hate it. I was probably doing Mrs. Draycott a gross injustice.” He seemed to realize that he had said too much, for, in spite of Fayre’s attempts to get out of him the exact form the gossip had taken, he kept resolutely off the subject during the rest of the drive to the station. The London train was late and as Fayre sat waiting on the platform he read over the notes he had made the night before. After some thought, he added a memorandum on Dr. Gregg. “_Seems curiously well-informed as to Mrs. Draycott’s past and general characteristics and is almost vindictive in his attitude towards her. Did not reach the scene of the murder till ten o’clock. Up till then, movements unknown, but was probably with patients. If possible, find out from Leslie whether he noticed anything unusual in his manner at the farm._” Grey, the solicitor, turned out to be an even younger man than Fayre had expected, but he was, as Kean had predicted, very much on the spot and not only ready, but anxious, to discuss the case. His first object was to see Leslie, and he arranged to go straight to the police station and meet Fayre at the hotel on his return. Fayre told him of the arrest of the tramp, and Grey undertook to procure a permit to visit the infirmary. He did not imagine that any objection would be raised to Fayre’s presence at the interview with the patient. They parted in High Street and, as luck would have it, Fayre almost immediately ran into Gunnet, the constable from Keys. Fayre was known to him, both as a friend of Lady Cynthia’s and as a guest at Staveley, and, being off duty, he saw no objection to stepping into the hotel and accepting the offer of a glass of beer. He had little of interest to relate. Two things he did say which had some bearing on Fayre’s notes of the evening before. “I stepped up to Galston yesterday,” he remarked, “and had a few words with Doggett, the lodge-keeper there. He informed me that he let the young lady in at the gates shortly before five-thirty and she did not go out again till she passed through in the motor on her way to Miss Allen’s.” “That tallies with what she and Mr. Leslie said at the inquest.” “It does. Come to that, beggin’ your pardon, sir, I’ve known her ladyship since she was so high and she wasn’t never one to tell a crooked story. I’d take her word anywhere, and so would any one in Keys. What I did, I had to do, in the way of duty, if you understand me.” Fayre nodded. “Anything settled about the funeral?” he asked.