'Oh, that's all right. I asked him to look us up, and I expect that he, being off duty, came down to smoke a pipe with us.' 'I don't like the fellow.' 'Neither do I.' Again there was low murmuring for several seconds, not a word of which reached me. Then I heard Springfield say: 'I shan't sleep soundly till I'm sure.' 'You weren't convinced, then?' 'I didn't see him plainly,' was Springfield's reply. 'You see, I had no business there, and we can't afford to arouse suspicions.' 'I tell you, Springfield,' and George St. Mabyn spoke as though he were much perturbed, 'I don't like it. I was a fool to listen to you in the first place. If you hadn't told me you were certain about it, and that----' 'Come that won't do, George. We are both in it together; if I have benefited, so have you, and neither of us can afford to have the affair spoilt now. You are squire, and I am your friend, and you are going to remain squire, whatever turns up, unless,' he added with a laugh, 'you are potted in this show.' 'What do you mean by that?' 'I mean that if it is he, he must never go back to England alive. It wouldn't do, my dear fellow.' 'But he remembers nothing. He doesn't even know his own name. He doesn't know where he came from; he doesn't know what he did.' 'Yes, but if it is he, what would happen, if his memory suddenly came back? Where should we be then? It won't bear thinking about!' 'But he knows nothing. Besides, who would take his word?' 'Are you sure Luscombe has no suspicions?' and Springfield asked the question sharply. 'How can he have? and yet--oh hang it all, Springfield, it hangs like a millstone round one's neck! But mind you, I am going to have no foul play.' Springfield gave an unpleasant laugh. 'Foul play, my son?' he said, 'we are both too deep in this business to stick at trifles. You can't afford it, neither can I.' A few seconds later, I heard them trudging back towards St. Pinto, still talking eagerly. I lay on the thick undergrowth for some minutes without moving. The scraps of conversation which I had heard, and which I have set down here, gave me enough food for reflection for a long time. I was not yet quite clear as to the purport of it all, but I was clear that villainy was on foot, and that not only was Paul Edgecumbe's life in danger, but my own as well, and if the truth must be told, I feared Springfield's threat more than I feared the danger which I had to meet every day as a soldier at the front in war time. The next day I received the following note:-- 'MY DEAR LUSCOMBE,--