“No,” agreed Thorndyke. “It is the Tilbury and Southend line. But you notice the date. It is the 18th; and the body was found on the morning of Wednesday, the 19th. So it would appear that he must have come into this neighbourhood in the evening; and that he must have come either by way of London or by a very complicated cross-country route. I wonder what brought him here.” He produced his note-book and was beginning to copy the receipt when the sergeant said: “You had better take the paper, sir. It is of no use to us now, and it isn’t very easy to make out.” Thorndyke thanked the officer, and, handing me the paper, asked: “What do you make of it, Jervis?” I scrutinized the little crumpled scrap and deciphered with difficulty the hurried scrawl, scribbled with a hard, ill-sharpened pencil. “It seems to read Ldn to ‘C.B. or S.B., Hlt’--that is some ‘Halt,’ I presume. But the amount, 4/9, is clear enough, and that will give us a clue if we want one.” I returned the paper to Thorndyke, who bestowed it in his pocket-book and then remarked: “I don’t see any keys.” “No, sir,” replied the sergeant, “there aren’t any. Rather queer, that, for he must have had at least a latch-key. They must have fallen out into the water.” “That is possible,” said Thorndyke, “but it would be worth while to make sure. Is there anyone who could show us the place where the body was found?” “I will walk up there with you myself, sir, with pleasure,” said the sergeant, hastily repacking the envelopes. “It is only a quarter of an hour’s walk from here.” “That is very good of you, sergeant,” my colleague responded; “and as we seem to have seen everything here, I propose that we start at once. You are not coming with us, Parton?” “No,” the doctor replied. “I have finished with the case and I have got my work to do.” He shook hands with us heartily and watched us--with some curiosity, I think--as we set forth in company with the sergeant. His curiosity did not seem to me to be unjustified. In fact, I shared it. The presence of the police officer precluded discussion, but as we took our way out of the town I found myself speculating curiously on my colleague’s proceedings. To me, suicide was written plainly on every detail of the case. Of course, we did not wish to take that view, but what other was possible? Had Thorndyke some alternative theory? Or was he merely, according to his invariable custom, making an impartial survey of everything, no matter how apparently trivial, in the hope of lighting on some new and informative fact? The temporary absence of the sergeant, who had stopped to speak to a constable on duty, enabled me to put the question. “Is this expedition intended to clear up anything in particular?”