Dan was puzzled. According to the cinematograph Mrs. Jarsell had certainly been in town on the day of the race, yet this yokel swore that she had not travelled from the Thawley Station. Yet there was no other route by which she could come. Of course, according to Mrs. Pelgrin, the woman owned three motors and could go to London in that way. There was just a chance that she might have done so, but Dan did not know how he was to find out. It would be no use asking Mrs. Jarsell, as she would deny having been out of Sheepeak. Yet since she was wholly undisguised on the Blackheath ground, why should she deny her identity. It might be that she would admit having gone to the big city--say by motor--and would defy him to credit her with the death of Durwin. Not that Dan would be foolish enough to accuse her of the same, as he had no evidence to go upon, save the fact of the perfume, and that was a weak reed upon which to lean. Mrs. Pelgrin might know something, however, and to Mrs. Pelgrin he determined to apply for information. At the end of his journey, and when he arrived in a ramshackle fly, he was welcomed by her as usual--that is, she bounced out of the inn, and placing her arms akimbo, smiled grimly. "Oh, so you are here again," she said in exactly the same way in which she had greeted Laurance. "Yes," said Halliday, readily having his excuse cut and dried, "I lost the flying race, and have come to apologize to Mr. Vincent for misusing his machine. I only want a mid-day meal as I leave again this afternoon." "You shall have your dinner," snapped Mrs. Pelgrin, leading the way into the inn after Dan had arranged for the driver of the trap to wait for three or four hours. "So you didn't win that race. Aye, Mr. Vincent will be rare mad with you, thinking what he does of those kites he makes." Halliday sat down in the well-remembered room and laughed. "The fortune of war, Mrs. Pelgrin. But I am sorry I lost the race. Mrs. Jarsell, who got me the aeroplane, will also be disappointed. Did she tell you about the start?" "Eh! man, would a lady like her come chattering to a humble body like me," was the landlady's reply, as she laid the table rapidly, "not that she saw the race, mind you, Mr. Halliday." "Oh, but she must have," replied Dan, with pretended surprise, "she promised to come and see me start from Blackheath." "She did not go to London," persisted Mrs. Pelgrin, her eyes becoming angry at the contradiction, "I mind that well, because she came to see me about some eggs on the very day you were flying, and says she, 'It will be a good day for Mr. Vincent's machine to win the race.'" "Are you sure?" asked Dan, more puzzled than ever to find that the stories of Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew were in accordance with one another.