Re-passing the Sussex Arms, I turned in, dusty and thirsty. In the bare taproom, deserted at that hour, old Denman, a tall, tight-trousered, splay-footed, grey-haired man, who drove the village fly, and acted as ostler and handy man about the hostelry, was busy cleaning some pewters, and as I entered, looked up and touched his hat. "Well, Denman," I said, "you don't seem to grow very much older, eh?" The man, whose hair and beard were closely-cropped, and whose furrowed face had a habit of twitching when he spoke, grinned as he answered,-- "No, sir. People tells me I bear my age wonderful well. But won't you come into the parlour, sir?" Declining, I told him to get me something to drink, and when he brought it questioned him as to the latest news in the village. Denman was an inveterate gossip, and in his constant drives in the rickety and antiquated vehicle known as "the fly," to villages and towns in the vicinity, had a knack of picking up all the news and scandal, which he retailed at night for the delectation of customers at the Sussex Arms. "I dunno as anything very startling has happened lately in Warnham. The jumble sale came off at the schools last Tuesday fortnight, and there's a cricket match up at the Lodge next Saturday. Some gentlemen are coming down from London to play." "Anything else?" Denman removed his hat and scratched his head. "Oh, yes," he said suddenly. "You knows Mr Macandrew what's steward for Mr Thornbury? Well, last Monday week an old gentleman called at his house up street and asked to see him. His wife asked him into the parlour, and Mr Macandrew went in. `Are you Mr Macandrew?' says the old gent. `I am,' says Mr Macandrew. `Well, I shouldn't 'ave known you,' says the old man. And it turned out afterwards that this old man was actually Mr Macandrew's father, who's lived ever so many years in America, and hasn't seen Mr Macandrew since he wor a boy. I did laugh when I heard it." "Extraordinary. Have you had any visitors down from London?" I inquired, for sometimes people took the houses of the better-class villagers, furnished for the season. "We had a lively young gent staying here in the inn for four days last week. He was a friend of somebody up at the Hall, I think, for he was there a good deal. He came from London. I wonder whether you'd know him." "What was his name?" "Funny name," Denman said, grinning. "Ogle, Mr Ogle." "Ogle!" I gasped. "What was his Christian name?" "Dudley, I fancy it was." "Dudley Ogle," I repeated, remembering that he had been absent from Shepperton for four days, and had told me he had been in Ipswich visiting some friends. "And he has been here?" "Yes, sir. We made him as comfortable as we could, and I think he enjoyed hisself." "But what did he do--why was he down here?" I inquired eagerly. "Do you know him, sir? Jolly gentleman, isn't he? Up to all manners o' tricks, and always chaffing the girls."