“Not a thing,” replied Whyland. “Mr. Ludgrove and I set a little trap, but nothing came of it.” “Oh, what was that?” enquired Hanslet. “Did you wander about Praed Street with counters stuck on your backs, or what?” “Better than that,” said Mr. Ludgrove with a smile. “Of course, you realize that five out of six of these deaths have taken place in Praed Street, don’t you? Well, another thing is that they have taken place during the week-end. It was a fair inference that if my life was to be attempted, it would be during the week-end, and in Praed Street. Do you agree?” “Well, it sounds reasonable, anyhow,” replied Hanslet. “What about it?” “I felt as though a breath of country air would do me good,” continued the herbalist. “As Inspector Whyland may have told you, I usually try to spend a week-end out of London at least once every three weeks. For one thing it does me good, and for another my business obliges me to collect herbs from time to time. And I happen to have heard of some particularly fine colchicums growing near Dorchester.” “Mr. Ludgrove told me this, and I thought it wouldn’t do him any harm to go and look for these collycums, or whatever he calls them,” broke in Whyland. “Besides, his suggestion gave me an idea. So we smuggled him off to Paddington, where two of my plain clothes men saw him into a train on Saturday morning. I reckoned he’d be safe enough out of London. Then I stayed here, being careful to keep a light burning in the shop, so as people would think Mr. Ludgrove was in residence. Then we met Mr. Ludgrove’s train at Paddington yesterday, evening, and brought him back. But, as I say, nothing happened. I only had one visitor all the time, and that was young Copperdock, on Sunday morning. I explained to him that Mr. Ludgrove was upstairs, and he said he would look in again later. But he never came, at least while I was here.” “Well, it wasn’t a bad notion, certainly,” said Hanslet. “I don’t think I should go about alone too much, if I were you, Mr. Ludgrove.” The herbalist smiled. “I hardly get the chance,” he replied. “I have a habit of taking a brisk walk in the neighbourhood every evening. During this last week I have never gone more than a few steps before being accosted by a charming and talkative individual who insists upon accompanying me. I am not complaining, I have found his conversation most interesting.” “And he yours, Mr. Ludgrove,” laughed Whyland. “I’m sorry, but what can we do? I don’t want to alarm you, but you know there is the chance that an attack might be made upon you. And that attack would give us the clue we want.” “I see. I am to be used as a stalking-horse,” said Mr. Ludgrove. “Well, I have no objection. I am only too glad to be of service in unravelling this terrible mystery.”