"I forgot, you only know that Armour was found in the ditch," said Kind. "A railway porter on the way home this morning found him. He was taken to Desleigh where he lives, and Trent was sent for. But I know Mrs. Armour, who is an old friend of mine, and I saw Armour before the Inspector saw him. Then Trent arrived, and sent that telegram to Miss Tedder." "And what explanation does Armour give?" "He had gone his rounds and arrived at Desleigh about one in the morning. He rested on the bench outside the tap-room door until two o'clock, or rather between two and three. Then he says that some men,--he could not guess how many,--suddenly came out of the mist and gagged him and bound him and wrapped his head in a shawl. They carried him to a ditch some distance from the railway station and left him there. The poor chap was nearly stifled when he was found, as all the time his head was tied up in the shawl." "But why was he kidnapped?" "Ah, that is what I want to find out," Kind looked at Browne. "You have given me a clue." "What is the clue?" "I'll tell you after the inquest," said Kind, turning away: then when he was some distance off, he called back. "See Mr. Ritson, doctor, and come to the caravan after the inquest." "But you wanted to see me about----" "I have seen you," called back Kind, "and have said what I wanted to say about Armour." Browne ran after the man, who still walked on. "We have come to no conclusion," he panted, for the doctor was plethoric. "I have," said the Cheap-jack. "You have given me a clue, I tell you, and I'll explain when we are together with Mr. Herries," and so saying, he walked off quickly. Browne, although anxious to question him further, had not the breath to follow him, and moreover, saw that Kind would answer no more questions at the moment. This being the case, he went to seek out Mr. Ritson, wondering greatly why Armour had been kidnapped, and wondering still more what clue Kind had obtained from him. Browne could recall nothing in his conversation likely to afford such a clue. Mr. Ritson had an office in the High Street of Tarhaven, a most imposing office, next door to a bank. There was nothing of the pettifogging lawyer about Mr. Ritson's office, as it was all mahogany and brass plates and plate-glass windows. Ritson was well-known as the legal adviser of half the county, and was supposed to be extremely wealthy. He was a tall, thin, severe old gentleman, with silvery white hair, and a parchment-hued face, and a dry manner. As a rule, he was not given to speaking much, but usually waited to hear what his clients had to say, that they might commit themselves. But when Dr. Browne, who knew him very well, was admitted into the lofty, airy apartment, which was Mr. Ritson's sanctum, he was surprised by the warmth and volubility with which the usually silent lawyer greeted him.