Needless to say, Fanks took his departure from Briar Cottage in a very puzzled frame of mind. Before leaving, he told Miss Colmer that he would call again the next day. When he got back to his hotel he asked himself how much of her story he could believe; and he came to the conclusion that not one word of it was true. He was as far off discovery as ever. CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE TWENTY-FIRST OF JUNE. Up to the present time the visit of Fanks to Taxton-on-Thames had been a complete failure. He had been thwarted by Hersham; he more than suspected that he had been tricked by Anne; and he saw no means of obtaining any information likely to lead to the elucidation of the mystery which enveloped the death of Sir Gregory Fellenger. It was in very low spirits that the detective returned to the Royal Arms, and after a good dinner, which somewhat cheered him, he sat down with a pipe to consider what he should do next. He had no hope of obtaining any information from Hersham or Anne Colmer, as for some reason or another each of them declined to speak. Fanks thought they could put him on the right track if they pleased; but he saw no means by which he could force them to speak openly. In spite of his threats he could arrest neither of them, as he had not sufficient evidence to do so. Unable, therefore, to force or to flatter them into plain speaking, he was completely baffled in his efforts to solve the enigma in this direction. For the time being he was at a standstill. In this dilemma he left the decision regarding his future movements to "chance," and, in the expectation of hearing something of value to his plans, he strolled into the tap-room of the hotel. Here he hoped to find the village gossips, and to gather from their idle talk information concerning Sir Louis Fellenger, Dr. Binjoy, and the negro servant. However, there was no one in the room save a bent and crooked old man, with a pair of keen eyes. He was seated in a corner of the settle, with a tankard of beer before him; and with garrulous complacency he introduced himself as Simeon Wagg, the parish clerk of Taxton-on-Thames. He had a long tongue and a fund of gossip at his disposal; and he was ready to afford Fanks all the information in his power about the parish and its inhabitants. "I hev more edication than the most folk about here," piped this ancient. "Theer ain't much as I don't know if I do so choose. Thirty year, sir, hey I bin official in this yer church an' village; and I've buried an' married an' christened wi' five passons. They come, they go; but old Simeon he staay like t' church itself. He! he! he!" "I suppose you know Sir Louis Fellenger?" "I knaw Mr. Louis Fellenger," corrected the aged gossip. "He warn't no barrownit when I seed him. Now he hev gone inter th' 'Ouse of Lors, es I hev heard. But he was in the third 'ouse es you go down by Fox's Farm. Aw, yis, I knaws him; sold hisself to Ould Scratch, he did." "What do you mean, Mr. Wagg?"