"I must have missed him."

"Well, you'll hardly find him on Bush Walk," which was the name of the path.

"You never can tell," came the dark answer.

At any rate, the policeman elected to abandon his self-imposed vigil, and the two walked together into the village.

"My! You look as though you'd run a mile," commented Elkin.

"This murder has kept me busy," growled the other, frankly mopping his forehead.

"Ay, that's so. And it isn't done with yet, by a long way. Pity you weren't in the Hare and Hounds last night. You'd have heard something.

There's a chap staying there, name of Ingerman--"

"I've met him. The dead woman's husband."

"Oh, perhaps you've got his yarn already?"

"It all depends what he said to you."

"Well, he hinted things. Unless I'm greatly mistaken, you'll soon be making an arrest."

"I believe I could put my hand on the murderer this very minute," said Robinson vindictively.

Elkin laughed, somewhat half-heartedly.

"Lay you fifty to one against the time," he said. "I'm the only one near enough for that limit, you know."

The policeman realized that he had allowed annoyance to shake his wits.

He looked at Elkin rather sharply, and noticed that the horse-breeder seemed to be nervous and ill.

"I didn't quite mean that I could grab my man this minute," he said, "but, if I can guess him, it amounts to nearly the same thing. What have you been doing to yourself, Mr. Elkin? You look peeky to-day."

"Too much whiskey and tobacco. I'll call at Siddle's for a 'pick-me-up.'

Am I wanted for the jury?"

"Yes. I left a notice at your place last evening."

"I didn't get it."

"Been away?"

"No. Fact is, I went home late, and didn't bother about letters this morning. What time is the inquest?"

"Three o'clock, in the club-room of the Hare and Hounds."

"Will that fellow, Grant, be there?"

"Rather. Dr. Foxton warned him yesterday."

"Good! What about Doris Martin? Will she be a witness?"

"Not to-day."

They were entering the village, and could see down the long, wide slope of the hill. Grant had just come into sight at its foot.

Both men scowled at the distant figure, but neither pa.s.sed any comment.

They parted, the policeman walking straight on, Elkin bearing to the left. The chemist's shop stood exactly opposite the post office, so Elkin, arriving first, was aware of his unconscious rival's destination.

He had not answered Mr. Siddle's greeting, but gazed moodily through a barricade of specifics piled in the window. Then he swore.

"What's wrong now?" inquired the chemist quietly.

"That Grant. Got a nerve, hasn't he?"

"I can't say, unless you explain."

"He's just gone into the post office."

"Why shouldn't he? He wants stamps, may be; plenty of 'em, I should imagine."

"Oh, you're a fish, Siddle. You aren't crazy about a girl, like I am. The sooner Grant's in jail the better I'll be pleased."

"If you take my advice, which you won't, I know, you will not utter that sort of remark publicly."

"Can't help it. Bet you a fiver I'm engaged to Doris Martin within a week."

Mr. Siddle took thought.

"Why so quickly?" he asked, after a pause.

"I'll catch her on the hop, of course. If she's engaged to me it'll help her a lot when this case comes into court."

"I cannot believe that Doris would accept any man for such a reason."

"I'm not 'any man.' She knows I'm after her. Will you take my bet, even money?"

"No. I don't bet."

"Well, you needn't put a damper on me. In fact, you can't. Have you that last prescription of Dr. Foxton's handy? My liver wants a tonic."

The chemist thumbed a dog-eared volume, read an entry carefully, and retired to a dispensing counter in the rear of the shop.

"Shall I send it?" came his voice.

"No. I'll wait. Give me a dose now, if you don't mind."

For some reason, Fred Elkin was not himself that day. He was moody, and fretful as a sick colt. But he had diagnosed his ailment and its cause accurately; a discreet doctor was probably aware of his failings, and had considered them in the "mixture."