"The door opened, and some men looked in. Through the straw that covered me I could see them quite distinctly--three fishermen and a farm labourer--though apparently they couldn't see me. From their conversation I gathered that they formed part of a search party looking for me, and had been told off to search the barn. This apparently they were not anxious to do, for they merely peeped in at the door, and one of them, in rather a relieved tone, said I wasn't in there, wherever I was. One of the fishermen replied that he expected that I was far enough off by that time. They stood at the door for a few moments, talking about the murder, and then they went away. "I stayed in the barn all day, but nobody else came near me. When it was dark, I filled my pockets with apples from the shelves, and went out. I wandered about all night, and found myself close to a railway station at daybreak. I had been in that part of the country before, so I knew where I was--not far from Heathfield, with Flegne about three miles away across the fields. The country was nearly all open, and consequently unsafe. As I walked through a field I spied a little hut, almost hidden from view in a clump of trees. The door was open, and I could see it was empty. I went in, lay down, and fell fast asleep. "When I awoke it was getting dusk. I was very stiff and cold, so I started out walking again to get myself warm. It was then, I remember well, that the longing came over me to see Peggy again. I cursed myself for my weakness, knowing what I knew--or thought I knew, God forgive me. "I found myself making my way back to Flegne as fast as my legs would carry me--which wasn't very fast, because I was weak from want of food, and so footsore that I could hardly stumble along. But I got over the three miles somehow, and reached the wood, where I crawled into some undergrowth, and lay there all night, sometimes dozing, sometimes wide awake, and sometimes a bit light-headed, I think. It was there you found me next day, and I was glad you did. I was about finished when I saw you looking through the bushes and only too glad to come out. I didn't care what happened to me then. And now, I have told you all." The young man, as he finished his story, buried his face in his hands, as though overcome by the recollection of the mental anguish he had been through, and what he had endured. "Not quite all, I think," said Colwyn, after a pause. "I have told you everything that counts," said Penreath, without looking up. "You have not," replied the detective firmly. "You have not told me all you saw when you were looking through the door between the two rooms the night of the murder." Penreath raised his head and regarded the other with startled eyes. "What do you mean?" he said, in a whisper. "I mean that you have kept back that you saw the body removed," he said grimly. "Are you a man or a wizard?" cried Penreath fiercely. "God! how did you find that out?"