“Not to remember—only words here and there. Until they come right opposite me—then, as they walks past, I hears something distinct enough. Guy Markenmore, he say it—‘I shall be coming along here about four o’clock in the morning to catch the four something from Mitbourne for Farsham,’ he say, and then he laughs. ‘You’ll be safe and snoring in your bed,’ he say, ‘at that time, no doubt.’ ‘Don’t you be too sure!’ say the little fellow. ‘I’m as early a bird as there is when I’m in the country!’ Then they go on, Markenmore way, and I see ’em disappears round the corner of a spinney that stands about there. And then—” “A moment, Roper,” interrupted Blick. “The second man—the littlish chap you describe. Did he talk like a countryman? Like anybody about here, you know?” “No!” replied Roper with emphasis. “Not he! London way o’ talking, his. Wasn’t nobody belonging to these here parts, I know. I been in London, to my sorrow! A Londoner, I set he down for.” “You didn’t see his face?” “I didn’t see nothing of he, ’cepting his figure, like. He stand away, as it were, out o’ the light when Guy was a-lighting of his cigar, so I didn’t catch nothing, of his looks. But he was a littlish, broadish chap. To be sure, I didn’t take no great notice of he—’cause I was wishing he wasn’t there at all!” “Well—what then?” asked Blick. “Then I goes on to Mitbourne and do my business with the man as I wanted to see,” said Roper, “and when that was done, I had a pint o’ ale with him at the Cock and Pie, and so come home again.” “Aye,” remarked Blick. “Just so! And——” he paused and gave Roper a particularly knowing look. “Anything else?” he asked. “I ain’t a-going to keep nothing back,” said Roper. “There is something else. Don’t ’ee forget as how I’d been keeping my feelings warm for Guy Markenmore for seven years! A man what’s been wronged as I had, he don’t forget easy. And when I gets to my cottage, all alone, that night, after I come in from Mitbourne, I sat a-thinking. And I did remember—’cause I hadn’t forgotten!—what Guy say to that chap he was with, about being on that footpath to Mitbourne at four o’clock next morning. So I gets up at three o’clock and sets off to meet him, intending, if I did find him up there, to have it out wi’ he—once for all!” “Did you find him?” asked Blick quietly. Roper glanced from the detective to the Professor. “Aye!” he answered equally quietly. “I found him! But there’d been somebody there before me. He was warm, then—but dead enough, wi’ a bullet through the brain!” The Professor gave a little sigh. But Blick showed no sign of surprise, and his voice, when he spoke, was more matter-of-fact than ever. “It had happened, then, just before you got there?” he said. “See anybody about?” Roper shook his head.