“Soon as I shut up shop at eight o’clock, I goes off to the Cambridge, same as I always does,” replied the tobacconist protestingly. “Ted went out too, he’s taking Ivy to the pictures, and they won’t be back for an hour or so yet. I has a couple there, sitting in front of the fire, and it wasn’t until nigh on closing time that I left. There wasn’t anybody there as was coming home my way, so I starts off home alone. And I hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards when I runs slap into the black sailor!” “What do you mean when you say you ran into him?” interrupted Whyland. “Just what I says. I saw someone come round the corner, and before I could move we ran into one another. He was a great big fellow, and I could see him perfectly plain, we was right under the lamp. He bent down and looked straight at me, and you could have knocked me down with a feather. It was the black sailor, all right. He was muffled up in a great heavy coat, but I could see his beard, and his woollen cap, and a great red scar down the right side of his face. He glared at me as though he were going to hit me, and I hollered out, being sure he was going to do me in. Then all at once he turns his back and walks off at a tremendous pace. After a bit I follows him, hoping to meet a copper. But he suddenly turns in to the Edgware Road, and by the time I gets there I’d lost him.” “H’m,” said Inspector Whyland. “That must have been nearly an hour ago now.” He paused for a moment, then, realizing that in Mr. Copperdock’s present excited state it would be impossible to get anything coherent out of him, he rose and took his leave. “Well, good night, Mr. Copperdock,” he said abruptly. “It’s a pity you didn’t catch your man. I’d better get back to the station and warn my people to look out for him.” As he left the shop, he noticed that Mr. Ludgrove’s door stood open, and as he crossed the road, the herbalist himself appeared in the entrance. “Good evening, Inspector,” he said politely. Obeying a sudden impulse, Whyland stopped and returned the greeting. “Good evening, Mr. Ludgrove,” he replied. “May I come in for a moment?” “By all means, come along,” replied the herbalist, leading the way into his sanctum. “I do not drink much myself, but perhaps you will take some refreshment yourself?” He busied himself with a bottle and a glass, while the Inspector drew up a chair to the blazing fire. Then, when his host had seated himself, Whyland glanced at him with a slight smile playing about his lips. “Our friend Mr. Copperdock has seen the black sailor,” he remarked. “Seen the black sailor!” exclaimed the herbalist incredulously. “When and where—if I may ask?” “Listen, and I’ll tell you all about it,” replied Whyland. “About an hour ago outside the Cambridge Arms.” Mr. Ludgrove laughed softly at something in the tone of the Inspector’s voice, then suddenly became serious.