He opened the gate and came across the turf to me. I observed that his hand trembled on his walking-cane, and that he dragged his injured leg with a worse limp than usual; also--but the uncertain light may have had something to do with this--his face seemed of one colour with the grey dust that powdered his shoes.

"Good morning, Harry!"

"Good morning, sir," I answered, crushing the oilskin into my pocket and waiting for his explanation.

"You are surprised to see me? The fact is, I have something to tell you, and could not rest easy till it was off my mind. I have travelled here by Russell's waggon,[1] but have trudged a good part of the way, as you see." He glanced down at his shoes. "The pace was too slow for my impatience. I could get no sleep. Though it brought me here no faster, I had to vent my energies in walking."

His sentences followed one another by jerks, in a nervous flurry.

"You are surprised to see me?" he repeated.

"Why, as to that, sir, partly I am and partly I am not. It took me aback just now to see you standing there by the gate; and," said I more boldly, "it puzzles me yet how you came there and not to the front door, for you couldn't have expected to find me here in the garden at this time in the morning."

"True, Harry; I did not." He paused for a moment, and went on--"It is truth, lad, that I meant to knock at your front door, by-and-by, and ask for you. But, the hour being over-early for calling, I had a mind, before rousing you out of bed, to walk down the lane and have a look over your garden gate. Nay," he corrected himself, "I do not put it quite honestly, even yet. I came in search of something."

"I can save you the trouble, perhaps," said I, and, diving a hand into my breech-pocket, I pulled out the gold-rimmed eyegla.s.ses.

He made no offer to take them, though I held them out to him on my open palm, but fell back a step, and, after a glance at them, lifted his eyes and met mine honestly, albeit with a trouble in his face.

"You found them?"

"Yes."

"To whom have you shown them?"

"To n.o.body."

"Yet there has been some inquiry?"

I nodded.

"At which you were present?"

I nodded again.

"And you said nothing of this--this piece of evidence? Why?

"Because"--I hesitated for a couple of seconds and then gulped hesitation down--"because I could not believe that you--that you were really--"

"Thank you, Harry."

"All the same, sir, your name was mentioned."

"Eh?" He was plainly astonished. "My name mentioned? But why?

How? since no one saw me here, and if, as you say, you hid this only evidence--"

"It came up, sir, when they examined me about Captain Danny.

You know--do you not?--that they have found his body, too."

"I heard the news being cried in Truro streets as we came through.

Poor old Coffin! It is all mystery to me--mystery on mystery!

But how on earth should my name have come up in connection with him?"

"Why, about your teaching him navigation, sir."

Captain Branscome pa.s.sed a hand over his forehead.

"Navigation? Yes; to be sure, I taught him navigation--or, rather, tried to. But what of that?"

"Well, sir, Miss Belcher seemed to think it suspicious."

He reached out a hand, and, taking the gla.s.ses from me, sat down upon the stone base of the flagstaff and began feebly to polish them.

"Impossible!" he said faintly, as if to himself; then aloud: "The man was a friend of yours, too, wasn't he?"

"Yes, sir; if you mean Captain Coffin, he was a friend of mine."

"And of mine; and, as you say, he came to me to learn navigation.

Now, what connection there can be between that and his being murdered a dozen miles inland--"

But here he broke off, and we both looked up and across the stream as, with a click of the latch, the door there creaked and opened, and Miss Belcher entered the garden. She wore an orange-coloured dressing-gown, top-boots to guard her ankles from the morning dew, a red kerchief tied over her brow to keep her iron-grey locks in place, and over it her customary beaver hat--_et vera incessu pat.i.t dea_.

Even thus attired did Miss Belcher, a G.o.ddess of the dawn, come striding over the footbridge and across the turf to us; and the effect of the apparition upon Captain Branscome's nerves, after a night of travel alongside Russell's van, I can only surmise.

I did not observe it, having for the moment no eyes for him.

"Hallo!" said Miss Belcher, walking straight up to us, and halting, with a hand planted, washerwoman fashion, on either hip, as Captain Branscome staggered to his feet and saluted. "Hallo! who's this?"

"Captain Branscome, ma'am," stammered I.

"I thought as much. And what is Captain Branscome doing here?"

"By your leave, ma'am," said Captain Branscome, "I--I was just dropping in for a talk here with my friend Harry Brooks."

"H'm!" sniffed Miss Belcher, and eyed him up and down for a full ten seconds with an uncompromising stare. "As an explanation, sir, you will allow that to be a trifle unsatisfactory. What have you been eating lately?"

"Madam?"

Captain Branscome stared at her in weak bewilderment; and, indeed, the snort which accompanied Miss Belcher's question seemed to accuse him of impregnating the morning air with a scent of onions.

"You can answer a plain question, I hope?" said she. "When did you eat last, and what was it?"

"To be precise, ma'am--though I don't understand you--it was an apple, and about--let me see--seven hours ago."

Miss Belcher turned to me and nodded.

"In other words, the man's starving. I don't blame you, Harry Brooks. One can't look for old heads on young shoulders. But, for goodness' sake, take him into the house and give him something to eat!"

"Madam--" again began Captain Branscome, still a prey to that mental paralysis which Mrs. Belcher's costume and appearance ever produced upon strangers, and for which she never made the smallest allowance.

"Don't tell me!" she snapped. "I breed stock and I buy 'em. I know the signs."