Sergeant Nield bore a good reputation in Burry Port as an efficient and obliging officer, as well as a man of some reading and culture. He listened to Mr. Morgan’s recital with close attention and quietly took charge. “Manners would deal with it at first, Mr. Morgan,” he answered, “but he would hand it over to us when he saw what the object was. I think we’ll call for him on the way down, and that will put the thing in order. Can you come down now, sir?” “Certainly. That’s what I intended.” “Then we’ll get away at once. Just let me get my bicycle lamp.” He turned to a constable. “Williames, you and Smith get another light and take the handcart down to the lifeboat slip. Watson, take charge in my absence. Now, Mr. Morgan, if you are ready.” It was quite dark as the two men turned towards the harbour. Later there would be a quarter-moon, but it had not yet risen. The night was calm and fine, but a little sharpness was creeping into the air. Except for the occasional rush of a motor passing on the road and sounds of shunting from the docks, everything was very still. “Just where did you say you found the crate, Mr. Morgan?” the sergeant asked. “Off Llanelly; off the sea end of the breakwater and on the far side of the channel.” “The Gower side? Far from the channel?” “The Gower side, yes. But not far from the channel. I should say just on the very edge.” “You didn’t mark the place?” “Not with a buoy. I hadn’t one, and if I had I should not have thought it worth while. But I took bearings. I could find the place within a few feet.” “I suppose you’ve no idea as to how the crate might have got there?” “Not the slightest. I have been wondering that ever since I learned what was in it. What do you think?” “I don’t know, sir, unless it has been dropped off a steamer or been washed into the Inlet from some wreck. We’ll get it to the station and examine it, and maybe we shall find where it came from. If you wait here a second I’ll get hold of Manners.” They had reached the coastguard’s house and the sergeant ran up to the door. In a few seconds he returned with a stout, elderly man who gave Mr. Morgan a civil good evening. “It’s your job, of course, Tom,” the sergeant was saying, “but it’ll be ours so soon that we may as well go down together. Perhaps, sir, you’ll tell Manners about how you found the crate and brought it in?” By the time Mr. Morgan had finished his story for the second time they had reached the boat slip. The sergeant and Manners peeped into the crate in turn. “Yes, sir, it’s just what you said,” the former remarked. “It’s a man, by the look of him, and he’s been dead some time. I think we’ll have the whole affair up to the station before we open any more of it. What do you say, Tom?” “Right you are, Sergeant, I’ll go with you. I shall ’ave to put in a report about the thing, but I can get my information at the station as well as ’ere. You’ll be coming along, Mr. Morgan?”