I told him, very truthfully, that I did not feel at all well. "Then you will have to get well, or else we shall never be able to fathom this business," he said. "The first thing, consequently, I shall do, is to write a prescription, and get it made up. After that, I mean to take a survey of the house and grounds." "Do precisely what you like," I answered. "This is Liberty Hall to the living as well as to the dead," and I laid my head on the back of the easy-chair, and went off to sleep. All that day Munro seemed to feel little need of my society. He examined every room in the house, and every square inch about the premises. He took short walks round the adjacent neighbourhood, and made, to his own satisfaction, a map of River Hall and the country and town thereunto adjoining. Then he had a great fire lighted in the library, and spent the afternoon tapping the walls, trying the floors, and trying to obtain enlightenment from the passage which led from the library direct to the door opening into the lane. After dinner, he asked me to lend him the shorthand report I had made of the evidence given at the inquest. He made no comment upon it when he finished reading, but sat, for a few minutes, with one hand shading his eyes, and the other busily engaged in making some sort of a sketch on the back of an old letter. "What are you doing, Munro?" I asked, at last. "You shall see presently," he answered, without looking up, or pausing in his occupation. At the expiration of a few minutes, he handed me over the paper, saying: "Do you know anyone that resembles?" I took the sketch, looked at it, and cried out incoherently in my surprise. "Well," he went on, "who is it?" "The man who follows me! The man I saw in this lane!" "And what is his name?" "That is precisely what I desire to find out," I answered. "When did you see him? How did you identify him? Why did--" "I have something to tell you, if you will only be quiet, and let me speak," he interrupted. "It was, as you know, late last night before I left here, and for that reason, and also because I was perplexed and troubled, I walked fast--faster than even is my wont. The road was very lonely; I scarcely met a creature along the road, flooded with the moonlight. I never was out on a lovelier night; I had never, even in the country, felt I had it so entirely to myself. "Every here and there I came within sight of the river, and it seemed, on each occasion, as though a great mirror had been put up to make every object on land--every house, every tree, bush, fern, more clearly visible than it had been before. I am coming to my story, Hal, so don't look so impatient.