"I came round the corner to get a pound of bacon for supper," said Giles reflectively, "and I saw the engine"--so he phrased it--"before the door. A lady was stepping in----" "A lady!" I interrupted. "Are you certain?" "Yes--sir," he said, giving me the polite address doubtfully. "I saw her plain enough in the light of them bright lamps. She had a long white sort of gown on, and a cap with a veil flying behind on her head. I just caught a glimpse of her, when she went off as hard as she could." "In what direction?" "Murchester way, if you want a good big town to go by," said Giles. "Then send for the police and tell them to telegraph to Murchester to stop the car. It's a Rippler, No. 14539 Z, and belongs to me. The woman has stolen it, I tell you. Where are the police?" "There's no policeman until we get one from Arkleigh, and the telegraph office is there also. Now you, sir, must wait until the police come." "Of course," I assented readily. "I quite understand that you look upon me as a doubtful character. Lock up this house until the police arrive and take me to your inn if you have one. I want something to eat and drink." "But the eye," said the heavy dark woman; "give back the eye." "I haven't got the eye," I snapped, for with hunger and thirst and excitement, and the unpleasantness of being unjustly suspected, I was not in the best of tempers. "You can search me if you like." The dark woman would have done so readily, being evidently of a meddlesome nature. But Giles interposed. "Let the gentleman alone, Mrs. Faith," he said gruffly; "I caught him, and I'll keep him till Warshaw comes. I daresay it's a mistake on my part, and I'm sorry if----" "Oh, I don't blame you, Mr. Giles," I interposed easily, and lighted a cigarette to show my nonchalance. "I should have acted in the same way myself. So come along and take me to gaol." A relieved smile made the man's rugged face quite pleasant to look at, as my exculpation of himself, and my ready offer to be searched, evidently reassured him greatly. In his eyes, at all events, I was not the desperate criminal he had taken me to be. But his fellow-villagers still looked dubious. "Mrs. Caldershaw had heaps of money hidden away," ventured one little rat of a man with a squeaky voice. "Search my pockets then," I said again with open impatience. "All I have told you is correct. My name is Cyrus Vance, and if you send to the Artillery Barracks at Murchester, my friend Lord Cannington will have no difficulty in identifying me." As I thought it would, the title acted like a charm, and the tension somewhat slackened. Giles, who appeared to be the most sensible of the lot, beckoned me into the dark shop, leaving his friends to guard the house and look after the corpse of the unfortunate woman. I walked beside him round the corner, and sure enough--as I expected--came upon the twinkling lights of quite a dozen houses. The late Mrs. Caldershaw had customers after all, it would seem.