“What do you mean?” asked the detective, looking at him intently. But the little man returned his gaze quite calmly. “Why,” he said, “my energetic young nephew went out eel-spearing at some unearthly hour—to catch the falling tide—walks on the mud, you know, with what we call cleat boards fixed to his boots. It’s a good place for eels further up the estuary. About half a mile up he came on my canoe, stranded on a ridge of stones. He couldn’t get her down to the water by himself, so he ran home and woke me. Now, I should like to know who took that canoe out last night.” The detective thought he would like to know also. “I suppose it wasn’t you—or any of your police people, eh?” went on the little man. “I know in a case like this you’re up to all kinds of funny little dodges.” “No,” replied Colson, “it wasn’t any of us. Our man—Constable Gadsden—came back to Frattenbury quite early last night. There was nothing to keep him here.” He looked hard again at Mr. Proctor as he spoke. He was getting a little puzzled. But the other man was apparently quite calm. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to get some breakfast. I suppose you had yours before you came out from Frattenbury this morning?” It was an innocent enough question, but Colson was on his guard. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t,” he said. “I’m going to see if I can get some at the ‘Mariner’s Arms.’” Proctor nodded and turned to go. “One moment,” said the detective. “I should like to see your nephew about finding that canoe this morning.” “What?” retorted Proctor, stopping and turning. “Do you think there’s anything in it about the murder?” “I never said that. But it’s best to take notice of anything, you know.” “Very well, then, come in after breakfast and see him.” The detective ate his meal in silence. There were several matters which gave him food for his mind as well as for his body. He was getting profoundly dissatisfied with the course of events. When Mrs. Yates came into the room to clear away he asked her, casually, how long Mr. Proctor had been living at Marsh Quay. “About two years, sir. The house was for sale then, and he came and bought it. A nice gentleman he is, too.” “Does he do anything?” “Just a bit of boatin’ and fishin’, that’s all. He ain’t got cause to work for his living. They say he’s retired from his business, whatever it was I dunno.” “Married?” “No, sir. He’s a bachelor. Would you like a bit o’ fish for your dinner, Mr. Colson? I can get some nice fresh whiting.” “Excellent, Mrs. Yates. Keep your mouth shut about my sleeping here last night. If anyone’s inquisitive, make ’em think I came out from Frattenbury early this morning.” “I will, sir.” He strolled across to Mr. Proctor’s house. The latter saw him coming through the window, and opened the door for him. “Can I offer you a smoke?” he said. “A cigarette—or——” “Thanks, I stick to my pipe. You don’t mind my lighting up?”