“Nearly ’ad you that time, gents,” he croaked joyfully. “Ain’t seen him go fer anyone like that not since he went fer that Mr. Stanfoerth, or whatever ’e calls ’isself—’im from Layton Court. I ought to ’ave warned ’ee. You want ter be very careful o’ that there Prince John.” Chapter XVI Mr. Sheringham Lectures on Neo-Platonism “Alec,” interrupted Roger plaintively, “if you say one more word to me about bulls, cows, or any other farmyard impedimenta, I shall burst at once into loud tears. I warn you.” They were walking once more along the white, dusty road; but the springy exhilaration of the outward journey had gone out of their steps. A short but pithy conversation with the ancient rustic, conducted mostly in ear-splitting yells, had speedily shown the crestfallen Roger the precise nature of the wild goose (or should it be wild bull?) he had been chasing. Alec, it might be noticed in passing, was not being at all kind about it. “If ever anything could have been more obvious!” Roger pursued mournfully. “My reasoning was perfectly sound. It almost looks as if Mrs. William and that idiot of a landlord were trying deliberately to deceive me. Why couldn’t they have said straight out that the disgusting animal was a bull and have done with it?” “I don’t expect you gave them a chance,” Alec remarked with an undisguised grin. Roger gave him a dignified look and relapsed into silence. But not for long. “So here we are, back again at the precise point we had reached before we ever came across that miserable piece of paper,” he resumed unhappily. “A whole valuable hour wasted.” “You’ve had some exercise, at any rate,” Alec pointed out kindly. “Jolly good for you, too.” “The point is, what are we going to do next?” “Go back to tea,” said Alec promptly. “And talking about wasting valuable time, I believe that’s all we’re doing at all with regard to this business. If such a clear clue as that fizzles out in this way, why shouldn’t the whole thing be equally a mare’s nest? I don’t believe there ever _was_ a murder, after all. Stanworth committed suicide.” “Let’s see,” Roger went on, completely disregarding this interruption, “we were setting out to get on the trail of a Mysterious Stranger, weren’t we? Well, that’s where we shall have to take the thing up from. Luckily I kept my wits about me enough to put a few questions about strangers to those two, and we drew a blank. We will now visit the station.” “Oh, no!” Alec groaned. “Tea!” “Station!” returned Roger firmly; and station it was.