“Dangerous fast, I should call it. If I’d been a bit nearer the corner it’d ’ave caught me. As it was, it come near to smashin’ up a farm-cart that was goin’ peaceable and quiet down the main road. The carter didn’t ’alf ’ave something to say about it and I don’t blame ’im.” “Too dark to see the farm-cart, I suppose? You wouldn’t know the carter?” “Wouldn’t reckernize ’im, though ’e passed me close a minute or two later. The cart ’ad a white ’orse, though. I see that in the light of the lamps. And I see the man in the car, too, when the light ’it ’im. He was alone then.” “You couldn’t identify him?” asked Fayre quickly. But the man shook his head. “I only see ’im for a second,” he said. Fayre rose to his feet. “We’ll look up that carter,” he said decisively. “After all, he may have seen _you_ in the light of the lamps. If he did, you’ve got your alibi. Good-by and good luck. I hope your leg’s mending.” For the first time the man’s gloom lifted. Fayre’s friendliness was, as usual, infectious and the tramp looked after him with something of the wistfulness of a stray dog. “Good luck to _you_, mister,” he croaked in his hoarse voice. Back at the hotel Grey went carefully through his notes. “Not a bad morning’s work, on the whole,” he said. “I shouldn’t wonder if that car brought Mrs. Draycott.” Fayre nodded thoughtfully. “It looks like it. She was in thin evening slippers when they found her and it struck me at the inquest that she could never have walked that distance in them. And it went back without her and that poor little beggar at the infirmary never grasped the importance of what he’d seen. I wonder if the police got as much out of him as we did!” Grey laughed. “I’m willing to bet they didn’t. He’s a suspicious customer and wouldn’t say more than he was obliged and he obviously didn’t think it worth the telling. What about tackling the carter? It shouldn’t take long to run him to earth, given the white horse and the collision.” Fayre thought of Kean and the snubbing he had received at his hands and hugged himself. Now, at last, he had a definite plan of action. “I’ll tackle the carter,” he said gleefully, “and let you know how I get on.” Chapter VIII Fayre and Grey lunched at the station hotel, where the solicitor had booked a room for the night. From Fayre’s point of view, the meal was more than satisfactory. Grey showed a keenness that was after his own heart and proved not only ready to impart information, but anxious to hear anything his companion might have to tell him that had any bearing on the case. He suggested that Fayre should make a note of any questions he wished put to Leslie and leave it in his hands. They agreed to meet at lunch on the following day and report progress.