"To be discovered whether O'B. himself--or the other? "Possibilities--Thomsons--No Scotts--No Scollays--No." The Thomsons and Scotts I knew to be tenants of seaboard farms like the Scollays, and after the Scollays came three other names, each with "No" written after them. A pencil mark also scored across all the six names. So here was Bolton's secret. Either O'Brien was actually in the island himself, or he had a "confederate" here, and since that entry was made, one of the two had crowned his series of crimes by murdering the man who was on his track. And who was this confederate? Or alternatively, where was O'Brien himself lurking? Obviously the six names were people definitely acquitted, in Bolton's estimation anyhow; for the "No" and the line through their names could only mean that. In this list certain names were not included--I had got so far when I happened to glance at the clock and started to my feet. My appointment with Jean was already overdue. No sign of her when I reached the road, so I set off to walk slowly towards her house, thinking, thinking, thinking. Of course the man most of all to be suspected was her own cousin. And if he were in it, I knew that any person of common sense would warn me to beware of confiding in his only relatives in the island. But I felt sure I knew better than any person of mere common sense. Still, I could scarcely ask her to abet me in convicting the doctor. Then I must not show her the note book. And that meant a breach in our confidence at the very start. I had walked on till I was approaching her house, and still there was no sign of her ahead, nor was there any conclusion in my mind. And then I chanced to look round and saw her hastening after me, about a couple of hundred yards away. I wheeled round and on the instant leapt to one of my typical haphazard decisions. I would simply show her the pocket book and see how she took it. She had evidently been running and met me half cross and half laughing and divinely flushed after her stern chase. "I've been chasing you for miles!" she cried. "Why ever didn't you look round?" "But I thought you were coming straight from home!" "I never said so, and I wasn't! I've been somewhere else first." There seemed to be a hint of something significant in these last words, but I was so eager to come to the point that I never paused to question her. "I am dreadfully sorry," I said, "but I was thinking so hard I never thought of looking round. I have got some news for you." Her eyes sparkled. "What is it?" she cried. "Bolton's pocket book has been found among the rocks, and this was his last entry before he was killed."