“Bless the women!” he ejaculated as he prepared to follow her. He made for the library and entrenched himself firmly behind the _Times_; but he wasn’t to escape for long. Less than ten minutes later he heard Cynthia’s voice in the hall and then her quick, light step as she came into the room. He buried his nose deeper in the leading article. There was a protesting creak from his chair as she settled herself comfortably on the arm and placed a slim white hand between his eyes and the print. “I did play the game, didn’t I, Uncle Fayre?” she murmured softly. “I never asked a single question. Don’t you think I deserve a lump of sugar?” “What do you want now?” he asked, trying in vain to speak gruffly. Cynthia in her wheedling moods was doubly dangerous. “Supposing we were to nip back into the car and run over to the Cottage Hospital, just you and me. If we go at once we shall be back in plenty of time for tea.” “And may I ask what you propose to do there?” “Sit in the car while you go in and see the tramp. Please, Uncle Fayre! If you do I promise I won’t bother you to tell me anything you don’t want to.” “What do you suggest that I should say to the tramp when I do see him? He’s told us all he knows already.” “I don’t believe he has. I’ve been thinking that, if he was really lying there all that time, he must have seen any one else who came up the lane and, if you really think the Page man hasn’t got anything to do with it, then somebody else must have driven to the farm while the tramp was there. How did Mrs. Draycott get there, if the Page car didn’t bring her?” “If you can answer that, my child, you’ve all but solved the mystery,” sighed Fayre. “Well, if the tramp can’t answer it, who can?” demanded Cynthia. “You said he was frightened and suspicious and on his guard against the police. Why shouldn’t he have been keeping back something? I’ve got a hunch that if you treat him like a human being and get him to believe that you’re not his enemy like the rest, you may get something out of him. Anyway, it’s worth trying. Just to please me, Uncle Fayre! His leg’s getting better and once he’s out and in the hands of the police you won’t have a chance to get at him.” Fayre knew that he was weakening, but he made a determined effort to retain his comfortable seat by the fire. “It’s an absolutely forlorn hope, you know,” he urged. “And the chances are that they won’t let us see him when we get there. You must remember that I went with Grey last time. Besides, by the time we get the car . . .” “The car’s there now,” stated Cynthia calmly. “I ordered it as I was coming through the hall just now. I told them I’d drive myself. Please, Uncle Fayre!” With a sigh Fayre heaved himself out of his chair. “You’re a nuisance and a bully and you don’t play fair,” he complained, with a smile that belied his words. “But I suppose if I’m to have my tea in peace, I shall have to humour you.”