Then, taking the order backward: _“Scout the very notion of such an infamy. You and every scandal-monger in S. may do your worst.” “Free to confess that events have opened my eyes to the truth, so, not for the first time, out of evil comes good.” “A prig.” “Visit for such a purpose a piece of unheard-of impudence.”_ These were all on one page. “Quite clearly a _précis_ of Grant’s remarks when Siddle called on Monday,” said Winter. At any other time, Furneaux would have waxed sarcastic. Now he merely nodded. “Stops in a queer way,” he muttered. “Not a word about the inquest or the missing bottles.” The preceding page held even more disjointed entries, which, nevertheless, provided a fair synopsis of Doris’s spirited words on the Sunday afternoon. _“Malice and ignorance.” “Patient because of years.” “Loyal comrade. Shall remain.” “Code.” “No difference in friendship.” “E. hopeless. Contempt.” “Skipping—good.” On the next page: “Isidor G. Ingerman. Useful. Inquire.” “E.’s boasts? Nonsensical, surely!” “Why has D. gone?”_ Both men paused at that line. “Detective?” suggested Winter. “That’s how I take it,” agreed Furneaux. Then came a sign: “+10%.” “Elkin’s mixture was not ‘as before.’ It was fortified,” grinned Furneaux. “That’s the exact increase of nicotine. By the way, I have a sample. We can take care of him on that charge, without a shadow of doubt.” Winter blew softly on the back of his friend’s head. “You’re thorough, Charles, thorough!” he murmured. “It’s a treat to work with you when you get really busy.” Furneaux ran his thumb across the end of several leaves. “I can tell you now,” he said, “that there’s nothing of real value in the earlier notes. So far as I can judge, they refer either to a sort of settlement with his wife or chance phrases used by Doris Martin which might imply that she was heart whole and fancy free. There’s not a bally word dealing with the murder, or that can be twisted into the vaguest allusion to it. But here’s a plan and section which have a sort of significance. I’ve seen the place, so recognized it, or thought I did. We must check it, of course. Here you are! You know the footbridge across the river from Bush Walk?” “Yes.” “The eastern end is supported on a hollow pier of masonry, in which one might tog up unseen. These drawings would be useful as an _Aide Memoire_ on a dark night. A false step, with the river in flood, might be awkward.” “What’s that on the opposite page?” “I give it up—at present.” This somewhat rare display of modesty on Furneaux’s part was readily understandable. A series of straight lines and angles conveyed very little hint of their purport; but Winter smiled behind his friend’s back. “I’ve been prowling about this wretched inn longer than you,” he said. “Look outside, to the left.”