“I found my way to a very lonely bit of the coast and sketched. I can show you the sketches. I particularly wanted to get a sunset effect, so I waited till then. When I started back I began to feel hungry, and called at a solitary farm-house, where they gave me bread and cheese and milk. It was dark when I left and I wandered considerably out of my way before I got back to the ‘Wheatsheaf.’ When I did, I was awfully tired. I glanced in the tap-room. There was a noisy crowd there, so I went straight to bed. I never spoke to anyone.” “Go on, please. The next morning?” “I was up early. There was only a girl about, and she got me some breakfast. Then I paid my bill and rode off.” “Where?” “To the lower part of the estuary. I bought some food at a grocer’s shop in a village I passed through, sketched till the afternoon, and then rode out here. With the exception of the girl in the morning and a deaf old woman in the grocer’s shop, I never spoke to a soul all day till I asked the village policeman here where I could get a bed. Those are the facts, Major Renshaw. I hope you don’t dispute them?” The Chief Constable regarded him critically, but did not answer his question. Instead he asked: “Did you know this Mr. Reginald Templeton?” The young man hesitated a little. “Yes—I did,” he admitted. “Did you see him to speak to at Marsh Quay?” “N—no.” “You knew he was there—you have admitted that already.” “Yes—I knew he was there.” “You avoided him, then?” Grayson nodded. “Why?” “Well—you see—we weren’t exactly friends. That’s why I came away. I didn’t want to meet him.” “Why?” After a brief silence the Chief Constable said: “Well, Mr. Grayson, I told you mine was an unpleasant duty. I make no charge against you at present, but there are certain ugly facts which you will have to account for. You are not under arrest—or I should not, of course, have questioned you—but I am afraid I shall have to ask you to come back with me to Frattenbury and I must warn you that you will be detained there, at all events till you can give a further account of yourself. I am sorry if there is any mistake. I cannot say more.” Grayson bowed. He was still very pale and a little agitated. He recognised the seriousness of his position. “I understand,” he said quietly, “and of course I cannot refuse to go with you; but I assure you it is all a mistake.” “I hope it is,” said Major Renshaw dryly. “You had better bring some things with you—for your own comfort.” Just before they were ready to start the Chief Constable suddenly said: “Have you any cigars on you, Mr. Grayson?” The young man pulled out his case. “These are all I have left. Why?” “Thank you,” said Major Renshaw, putting the case in his pocket. “I’m afraid I must deprive you of them.” “Am I not allowed to smoke?” asked Grayson. “I understood I was not under arrest.” Major Renshaw smiled grimly, and as soon as they were in the car offered his cigarette-case.