"I mean to find out--no matter what we hear from the landlady--if that name is to be found in the parish register here, anyway," answered Mr. Pawle. "You can be sure of this--Ashton came to this obscure country town for some special purpose. What was it? And--had it anything to do with, did it lead up to, his murder? That--" A light tap at the door heralded the approach of Mrs. Summers. "That," repeated Mr. Pawle, as he jumped up from his chair and politely threw the door open, "is what I mean to endeavour--endeavour, at any rate--to discover. Come in, ma'am," he continued, gallantly motioning the old landlady to the easiest chair in the room. "We are very eager, indeed, to hear what you can tell us. Our cigars, now--" "Pray, don't mention them, sir," responded Mrs. Summers. "I hope you are quite comfortable, and that you are having everything you wish?" "Nothing ma'am, could be more pleasant and gratifying, as far as material comfort goes," answered Mr. Pawle with conviction. "The dinner was excellent; your wine is sound; this old room is a veritable haven! I wish we were visiting you under less sad conditions. And now about your recollections of this poor gentleman, ma'am?" The landlady laid a large book on the table, and opening it at a page where at she had placed a marker, pointed to a signature. "That is the writing of the Mr. John Ashton who came here," she said. "He registered his name and address the day he came--there it is: 'John Ashton, 7 Markendale Square, London, W.' You gentlemen will recognise it, perhaps?" Mr. Pawle put up his glasses, glanced once at the open book, and turned to Viner with a confirmatory nod. "That's Ashton's writing, without a doubt," he said. "It's a signature not to be forgotten when you've once seen it. Well, that establishes the fact that he undoubtedly came here on that date. Now, ma'am, what can you tell about him?" Mrs. Summers took the chair which Viner drew forward to the hearth and folded her hands over her silk apron. "Well sir," she answered, "a good deal. Mr. Ashton came here one Monday afternoon, in a motorcar, with his luggage, and asked if I could give him rooms and accommodation for a few days. Of course I could--he had this room and the room I pointed out upstairs, and he stayed here until the Thursday, when he left soon after lunch--the same car came for him. And he hadn't been in the house an hour, gentlemen, before I wondered if he hadn't been here before." "Interesting--very!" said Mr. Pawle. "Now, why, ma'am did you wonder that?"