“Go on—have some of this,” and he set a tobacco jar on the table. “Now, Phil,” he went on to the boy who was with him “you must tell the detective-sergeant how you found my canoe this morning.” Colson listened while the boy told his story, which was brief and simple. And as he listened his gaze strayed once or twice to a picture, a large framed photograph, hanging over the mantelpiece. He asked Philip a few questions. “Was she fastened in any way?” “No—just lying on the stones.” “Just as she might have been left if anyone had landed from her when the tide was up, eh?” “Yes.” “I see. I expect you know all about the tide here, don’t you?” “Rather,” said the boy. “Then what time do you calculate the tide was up to the spot where you found her?” “That’s no use,” said Philip promptly. “You see, if the fellow landed before high tide the flow would go on washing the canoe up and leave her stranded when it turned. I found her at highwater mark, of course.” The detective, who had his eyes riveted on Proctor’s face while the boy was replying, smiled approvingly. “You’re a sharp lad,” he said. “I ought to have thought of that. But it means that he landed either at or before high tide, eh?” “That’s it,” said the boy. Colson got up to go, lingering a little in the room. He strolled up to the fire-place casually. “That’s a fine view,” he said, nodding towards the picture. “Looks like a bit of Switzerland.” “It is,” replied Proctor. “It’s the Julier Pass, just before you get into the Engadine.” “Ah! I’ve always wanted to spend a holiday in Switzerland, but I’ve never been able to run to it. You’ve been there, I suppose?” he asked Proctor, turning to him as he spoke. “Oh, yes—some years ago.” “I see. Well, thank you very much, sir. I won’t hinder you any longer.” “I shall see you this afternoon,” said the little man, in the act of showing him out. “I’m summoned on the jury.” Philip had come to the door with them. The detective turned to him. “Did you get good sport with the eels this morning?” he asked. “Not so bad. It’s ripping sport. Have you tried it?” “No,” laughed the detective. “What sort of a spear do you use?” “Come along. I’ll show you. I left it in the garden here.” Colson followed him, examined the spear, chatting as he did so. “And you say about half a mile up yonder—near the spot where you found the canoe—is the best place for eels?” “Yes. I always go there.” “I see. Well, if you get up so early you may make your uncle think there’s a burglar in the house—if he hears you about in the dark, you know, eh?” “It wasn’t dark when I got up,” said the boy, a little surprised, “and uncle knew I was going out this morning early. I told him so last night.” “Can’t quite make out that uncle of yours,” said Colson to himself as he walked along. “I wonder if he is only a fool.” CHAPTER VII The Inquest