And so far his adversary had completely outwitted him. In spite of his own elaborate precautions, his investigations into the death of Dr. Morlandson were known and had been treated as the most natural thing in the world. For his own part, he had learnt very little that he had not known before. Certainly his theory as to the motives for the murders in Praed Street had been confirmed. This was a small satisfaction to place against the Professor’s chagrin. He had also learnt that the Black Sailor, in spite of official scepticism, was an actual person. But of his identity, or the means by which the crimes had been committed, he had learnt nothing. From the police point of view he had failed utterly, since he had failed to secure any information which could possibly lead to an arrest. It was nearly eleven o’clock when the Professor saw the lights of the village in the distance, and, leaving the railway line, found the lane which led homewards. The sound of his footsteps re-echoed among the silent houses, the whole place breathed an atmosphere of perfect peace and tranquillity. His recent adventure seemed to the Professor as an impossible dream, a trick of his mind, so long concentrated upon the subject. So strong was the illusion of unreality that the Professor was impelled to feel the hard outline of the counter hidden in the folds of his handkerchief. There had been something theatrical about the whole adventure; the time, the place, the man’s appearance, his voice, so curiously harsh and rasping, his very words, so utterly at variance with his character of a rough sailor. With something of a shock the Professor remembered that Copperdock had claimed to have seen him at a moment when it was proved that there was no one there. Was it dimly possible that there was something supernatural about the affair? The Professor brushed the suggestion aside as absurd. The inn was closed by the time he reached it, but, remembering the landlord’s instructions, he knocked upon the door, and after a short interval the key turned in the lock and the door opened. The landlord’s voice welcomed him. “Bit later than you expected, sir, aren’t you?” he said. “Did you lose your way or anything like that?” “No, the—er—beauty of the night tempted me to stay out of doors,” replied the Professor. “Well, sir, come ten o’clock, and seeing as you didn’t come home, I put a drop of that old brandy aside for you. I hope I don’t presume too much, sir.” “You did not indeed, I shall be very glad of it,” replied the Professor thankfully. The landlord disappeared for a moment, and returned with a glass on a tray, which he handed to his guest. “I thought you might be glad of it after your walk, sir,” he said. “Did you find the ruins of Dr. Morlandson’s cottage?” “Yes, I did,” replied the Professor quietly. “A most isolated spot. I noticed that there was a path running past it. Where does that lead to?”