“I have, sir! Done thirty miles today before I came to this place,” replied the stranger. “Right across the downs. I always take a holiday twice a year—early spring and late autumn—and spend it pedestrianizing. Run all over this particular part of the South in my time. But I never came to this particular village until today. And I confess that what led me here—for in the ordinary way I should have put up at Selcaster—was curiosity! I read in the newspapers about this Markenmore mystery—so being near, I thought I’d like to see the place.” “Queer business, isn’t it?” said Blick. “Queer indeed, sir!” agreed the stranger. “You’re interested in it, sir?” “Got to be,” answered Blick laconically. “Professionally.” The stranger brought his big spectacles to bear on Blick and regarded him with rapt attention. Then he bent forward and spoke in a hushed voice. “Is it possible, sir, that I have the pleasure of meeting the famous Detective-Sergeant Blick, whose name I have heard in connection with this case?” he asked almost reverentially. “Do I see Mr. Blick in the flesh?” “You do!” replied Blick. “All there is of him!” “Bless me!” exclaimed the stranger. “Very proud, I’m sure, to meet you, sir. My name’s Crawley—I come from Tooting. Rate-collector, Mr. Blick—an arduous and humdrum occupation, sir, but it keeps me in form for walking, of which exercise I’m passionately fond. Dear me! Now, it may seem an extraordinary thing, but do you know, sir, in the course of my five-and-forty years of existence I have never met a gentleman of your profession before! A very exciting and engrossing profession, I believe, sir—quite adventurous?” “Depends,” said Blick. “Dull and monotonous enough, sometimes. You can, of course, get excitement and adventure out of a problem in mathematics—but there isn’t much of either in doing a long sum of compound addition, is there?” Mr. Crawley looked his admiration—and his failure to comprehend. “I mean,” added Blick, “that our job is very often one of adding this to that, and that to this—until you’ve got a total.” “Very good, sir, very good—I see your meaning!” said Mr. Crawley, rubbing his hands. “Oh, very good indeed, sir—an excellent illumination! It wouldn’t be fair of me, I suppose, to ask if you’ve arrived at a total in this Markenmore problem, Mr. Blick?” “I can soon answer that for you,” said Blick. “I haven’t!” “A very stiff nut to crack, I should think, sir,” remarked Mr. Crawley. “I read all the evidence in the paper—the _Daily Sentinel_, Mr. Blick—as I sat on a hill-side eating my modest lunch: very interesting indeed—more interesting, sir, than any of those sensational novels that people borrow from the libraries—oh, much more! Real life, sir!” “Make anything out of it?” suggested Blick. “Got any opinion?” Mr. Crawley glanced at the door and lowered his voice.