And as he entered the house he was already stripping off the old shooting jacket which he wore in the garden. For my part I slipped a light top-coat over my somewhat untidy house attire, and taking my hat and a stick, stepped quickly out along the road in the direction of the village street. A brisk walk brought me to the little sentry-box under the trees. But Gatton was not to be seen. Indeed, with the exception of several ordinary pedestrians who were obviously returning from the city to their homes (all of whom I scrutinized, thinking that Coverly might come this way) and the constable on duty at the point, there was no one about who looked in the least like either of my expected visitors. Having waited for some ten minutes unavailingly, I spoke to the man in the box. "Good evening, constable," I said; "I expected to meet a friend here--Inspector Gatton, of Scotland Yard--you may know him?" "I know of him quite well, sir," answered the constable, "and should recognize him if I saw him. But he has not been here this evening." "You have seen no one hanging about who might have been sent by him?" "No one, sir." "Strange," I muttered; then: "My name is Addison, constable," I said, "and if any one should ask for me will you direct him to proceed to my house?" And I gave the man instructions respecting its whereabouts. "I will," answered the constable; and wishing him "good night," I retraced my steps, curious respecting the matter, but not apprehensive as I well might have been--and with no glimmering of the ghastly truth penetrating to my mind. CHAPTER XXII THE GRAY MIST I was about half-way on my return journey when I heard a car racing along the road behind me, and as it came nearer I detected the fact that it was slowing down. Ere I could turn: "Hi! Mr. Addison!" hailed a voice. I stopped, turned round, and there was Gatton leaning out of the car and staring towards me through the deepening dusk. "Why, Gatton!" I said, walking up to him--"I waited more than ten minutes for you, and then gave it up." "Waited for me?" "Yes, by the police-box." He stared in evident wonder at me and then at the police chauffeur who drove the car. "Whatever prompted you to do that?" he said. "Coates must have given you the wrong message. I said I would come to the house for you, not meet you in the street." Still I remained dense to the truth, and: "I know you did," I replied. "I refer to the second message." "I sent no second message." "What!" "Get in," cried Gatton shortly; "this wants explaining." I stepped into the car, and as it moved onward again I explained to the Inspector what had taken place. As I talked I saw his expression grow darker and darker, until finally: "There's something wrong!" he muttered. "Then you did not inspire the message?" "I know nothing whatever about it. At the time you received it I was on my way from Crossleys. I have been traveling for the last hour and a half."