There were others far more perturbed by that odd conjunction of diners than the puzzled host, who merely expected Mrs. Bates to belabor him with a rolling pin. Mr. Siddle, for instance, had just closed his shop when the five met. That is to say, the dark blue blind was drawn, but the door was ajar. He came to the threshold, and watched the party until the bridge was neared, when one of them, looking back, might have seen him, so he stepped discreetly inside. Being a non-interfering, self-contained man, he seemed to be rather irresolute. But that condition passed quickly. Leaning over the counter, he secured a hat and a pair of field-glasses, and went out. He, too, knew of Mrs. Jefferson’s weakness for shopping in Knoleworth, and that good lady had gone there again. Her train was due in ten minutes. A wicket gate led to a narrow passage communicating with the back door of her residence. He entered boldly, reached the garden, and hurried to the angle on the edge of the cliff next to the Martins’ strip of ground. Yes, a spacious dinner-table was laid at _The Hollies_. Doris, Mr. Martin, and Peters soon strolled out on to the lawn. The pedestrians had obviously gone upstairs to wash after their tramp. Mr. Siddle rather forgot himself. He stared so long and earnestly through the field-glasses that he ran full tilt into Mrs. Jefferson and maid before regaining the high-street. But the chemist was a ready man. He lifted his hat with an inquiring smile. “Didn’t you say you wanted some anti-arthritic salts early in the week?” he asked. “Yes,” said Mrs. Jefferson, “but I got some to-day in Knoleworth, thank you.” “Well, I was just making up an indent, and might as well include your specific if you really needed it.” Which was kind and thoughtful of Mr. Siddle, but not quite true, though it fully explained his presence at Mrs. Jefferson’s gate. Mr. Franklin, escorting a fragrant Havana up the hill (he had traveled by the same train) saw the meeting, and, being aware of Mrs. Jefferson’s frugal habits, since Furneaux had omitted no item of his movements in Steynholme, remembered it later during the nightly gathering in the inn. Elkin greeted Mr. Franklin respectfully when the great man joined the circle. “Did you see anything worth while at Knoleworth, sir?” he said. “No. I was unlucky. All the principals were at a race meeting.” “By gum! That’s right. It’s Gatwick today. Dash! I might have saved you a journey.” “Oh, it doesn’t matter. In my business there is no call for hurry.” Elkin looked around. “Where’s our friend, the ’tec?” he said. “I think you’re wrong about ’im, meanin’ Mr. Peters,” said Tomlin. “’E’s ’ere for a noospaper, not for the Yard.” “That’s his blarney,” smirked Elkin. “A detective doesn’t go about telling everybody what he is.”