Hall was astonished to find that his bicycle had vanished. Taken by surprise he could only stand at the gate and stare helplessly about him. At last, thinking that something must be done, he shouted wildly for Jervis. In his agitation it never occurred to him that the policeman might be at the other end of the esplanade. As it happened, however, Jervis was close at hand, and shortly his voice boomed strangely out of the mists.

"What's the trouble? Is that you Hall?"

"He's dead! He's got a knife in his heart!" gasped the postman, who was clinging to the fence and feeling sick.

Jervis suddenly loomed hugely out of the fog, and entered into the circle of blurred light cast by the street-lamp. "Who is dead?" he asked, in surprise.

"Sir Hector Wyke," babbled Hall, whose nerves were very much shaken. "I saw him lying dead. Mrs. Vence showed me his corpse. My bicycle is gone----"

"Gone!" Jervis shook the terrified man. "Why I saw your bicycle slip along under the lamp nigh which we were talking on the esplanade. I come here straight when I hear your voice, wondering why you should be in the Ladysmith Road and your bicycle----"

"It was the murderer, Jervis. He dashed past me when I stopped at the door yonder to deliver the letter you saw. He has taken my bicycle. Stop him. He ought to be hanged. Oh, oh, oh!" He broke down, shivering and crying.

"Don't be a fool. Pull yourself together," commanded Jervis, gruffly. "How can I follow in this fog, and with no machine to catch him up with? Go to the telegraph-office, and wire Sergeant Purse at Redleigh that a murder has been committed at Maranatha, and that the criminal has escaped on a Government machine. He can't go far on a red-painted bicycle without being captured, though the fog may help him to win clear. Off with you, Hall, and I'll go into the house."

Hall nodded feebly, "I always thought that there was something strange about the baronet."

"We ain't got time to talk about the bar'nit. You go and do what I tell you."

Thus commanded, the postman, whose nerves were all unstrung by the sight he had seen and the tragedy which had occurred, crawled slowly down the road into the misty darkness, clinging to the fence to aid his progress. Jervis listened for a minute or so until the footfalls of his messenger had died away, then assumed an official expression of stern determination, and strode up the weedy path.

The door was still open, and Mrs. Vence stood upon the threshold. From her first words it was very evident that she had overheard the order. "Do you think Sergeant Purse will stop the bicycle at Redleigh?" she asked, feverishly, and laid a trembling old hand on the policeman's arm.

"I can't say. Don't seem to me as a likely thing to happen in this fog, to say nothing of the fact that this criminal mayn't go through Redleigh. I suppose the man who escaped is the criminal?"

"If sticking knives in folks' hearts is murder, he is," retorted Mrs. Vence, in a tart way, "any you oughter go after him at once."

"I ought to see the body at once," was the gruff reply. "'Taint much good my going on a wild goose chase in this fog. Don't you tell me my dooty, ma'am, for I know it; none better. And be careful what you say. as anything you do say will be used as evidence against you."

"Against me?" cried the housekeeper, shrilly. "Me is as innercent as an unborn babe. Well I never," and she looked furious enough to claw the ruddy face of the gigantic constable.

Mrs. Vence was a small and stout woman, with a brown, withered face seamed with innumerable wrinkles. She had abundant white hair, unbrushed and tangled, which added to her witchlike aspect as she peered indignantly at Jervis through horn rimmed spectacles. A stuff dress of faded blue, a dingy knitted shawl of red wool tightened over rounded shoulders, and a pair of ragged slippers formed her attire, so that she looked a perfect fright, maliciously observant, and aggressively disagreeable. The constable paused for a single moment to wonder why a gentleman should engage such a dirty and disreputable female as a housekeeper.

"You haven't touched it?" queried the policeman, examining the body of the dead man.

"Me?" Mrs. Vence began to thrill again. "Why, I haven't had time to touch it, and I wouldn't have touched it if I had had time. I just came in with a tray and let it fall when I saw him bending over my poor master as he'd killed. I dropped myself and dropped the tray when I fainted, more or less, but not quite. I heard as in a dream," exclaimed the housekeeper, dramatically, "the postman's knock. He waited for a minute until a second knock came, and then ran out of the house for dear life."

"By him you mean the criminal. I s'pose?" said Jervis, stolidly. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"How could I, drat you?" demanded Mrs. Vence, in querulous tones. "I wasn't myself altogether, being in a faint, and yet not in one, as you might say. Why, I gathered myself together us soon as I could and tottered to the door. Then, seeing the post in the hall, I knowed as I'd got a friend, and shoved him out to catch the rascal, drat him, and drat you asking me why I didn't."

Jervis hastily noted this statement down in his book, still kneeling, and would have asked questions, but there came an interruption.

It was Mrs. Vence who mentioned that a third person was present. "Lawks!" said the old woman, wiping her face with her apron. "Thought you was gone sir."

At the door stood a tall man, arrayed in a fashionable overcoat, with a knitted white silk scarf round his neck and a silk hat in his hand. He had large, powerful limbs, a large nose, a large face, and was large altogether. His hair and beard and moustache were iron-grey, and his eyes were as black as the night outside.

Wondering who he was, Jervis noted that he looked a truculent kind of buccaneer, and rose to confront him, thereby revealing the body on the hearthrug.

The newcomer at the door uttered a startled ejaculation, scarcely scriptural, and strode forward in quite a masterful way. He looked at the dead man aghast, then turned towards the policeman with an indignant expression, as if he suspected him of being the culprit. "What does this mean?" demanded the buccaneer, fiercely, and pointed to the corpse with a silver-headed cane which he held in his hand.

"Sir Hector Wyke has been stabbed, as you see, sir," said Jervis, curtly.

"Good heavens!" cried the stranger. "My poor friend."

"Was Sir Hector your friend, sir?" The gentleman nodded. "I came here to see him, and hoped that he would give me a bed for the night. Dead. Stabbed! Who killed him?"

"The other gent as come," chimed in Mrs. Vence, promptly; "and a murdering villain he is, sir. Clever too; seeing as he's got away on the postman's bike."

"Do you know anything about him?" asked Jervis, sharply.

"Lawks! and how should I? I never set eyes on him afore this blessed night."

"The other gent as come," said the stranger, repeating Mrs. Vence's earlier remark, word for word. "Nonsense. I was the only visitor Sir Hector had to-night."

"Makin' me out a liar, indeed," cried Mrs. Vence, much offended by the imputation. "Well, I do say as you've got a face, sir. Impudence and crime. Oh, little did I think as I'd come to sich a situation, and me so respectable."

"Hold your tongue," said Jervis, so ferociously that the old creature started and trembled. "Let us get to the bottom of this. Who are you, sir?"

The other man produced a card. "I am Oliver Lemby," he declared, in his deep, rich voice. "And dash you, policeman, don't look at me as I'd got anything to do with this infernal business. I came down here to see my friend----"

"In a trap from Redleigh."

"Not all the way," said Lemby, drily. "I travelled by train from London to Redleigh. Oh! I remember. The driver of the trap stopped to ask a policeman the way to this house. And you----"

"I am the constable of Hedgerton--the only constable," said Jervis, stiffly and a trifle imperiously. "Well, sir, and what do you know of this?"

"Nothing, dash and confound you!" snarled the truculent Mr. Lemby, who was as aggressive as Mrs. Vence. "I sent the trap away, hoping that Sir Hector would put me up for the night. This old hag showed me into the drawing room."

"Did you hear," said Jervis, "anything likely to make you think that a crime was being committed?"

"Hang you officer! Would I have stayed quietly in the drawing-room had I guessed for one moment that a murder was being committed?" demanded Lemby fiercely, and clenching his fist as if about to strike. "Wyke saw me in the drawing-room when he arrived, and while we were talking there came a ring at the door. Excusing himself, and asking me to stay where I was until he came back, he went down the stairs. I waited and waited until I was tired. Then I heard the woman shrieking, although I did not hear what she said."

"I said 'murder,'" observed Mrs. Vence, "and said it loudly, too."

"Not loud enough for me to hear, however," retorted Lemby, "or I should have been down before. However, as Wyke did not return, I suspected, from the voices and the shrieks of this old thing, that something was wrong, so came down to investigate. Well?"

"Ho!" said Jervis, as he saw no reason to disbelieve the plain statement. "You will have to wait, sir, until my superior officer comes along. I have sent the postman to the telegraph office to wire for him."

"Of course I'll wait, dash you! Do you think I am going to leave this house without finding who has murdered my poor friend? Why are you waiting here, officer? Why don't you catch the villain?"

"'Taint easy to catch a man as has gone off on a foggy night on a bicycle, sir," said Jervis, drily. "I can't tell in which direction he's gone."

"You could trace a Government bicycle because of the colour."

"I have wired to my sergeant to watch Redleigh Station for a red-painted bike, sir. The assassin may go to Redleigh to catch the express to London."

"Not he, unless he's a born fool," retorted Lemby contemptuously, "and his action in using the bike to escape shows that he isn't a fool by any means. I don't think that you'll nab him easily." He stopped, then looked at the corpse at his feet with marked emotion. "I suppose poor Wyke is dead?"

"Stone dead. He's been stabbed to the heart, as you see. Look for yourself."

"No." Lemby shrank back. "I don't meddle with corpses in charge of the law. I think you should get a doctor."

"Go for a doctor, Mrs. Vence," said Jervis, quickly, and thinking that this was good advice. "Bring him here immediately."

"Me!" cried Mrs. Vence, in her usually shrill tones. "Why, I'm a stranger in this place but a month. I don't know where the doctor's to be found, 'specially I on this misty night. Go yourself, or send this gent."

"I can't go myself, and the gent doesn't leave this house until my sergeant arrives," said Jervis, grimly.

Lemby drew himself up. "Officer, do you suspect me, dash you?"

"I suspect no one, at present. I don't know enough."

"Know enough," echoed the housekeeper contemptuously. "Why, ain't you heard all what I've told you? It was the beast as went off on the bike as stabbed my poor master. I saw him bending over the body when I dropped the tray and the glasses and the wine," and Mrs. Vence pointed to the tray and the various fragments of glass on the carpet.

"But who is he?"

"I dunno. I never saw him afore."

"Describe him?"

"He was a short man with red hair and rather stout, like me. I couldn't see much of him, as he was muffled up in a long black overcoat with a blue scarf round his mouth and a soft hat pulled over his eyes. I took him to my master into this very room, and was told to bring wine and cake in 1/2 of an hour. I was coming in with the wine, having been waiting on the clock in the kitchen, when I see my poor master dead and him bending over him afore I faints."

"It's my opinion that we ought to have a doctor," said Lemby.

Jervis agreed with Mr. Lemby; but as Mrs. Vence did not know where any doctor lived, and as he was unable to go himself, and did not intend to let the buccaneer leave the house, it was difficult to know what to do. But here Providence stepped in to extricate the trio from this dilemma. A light, quick step was heard in the hall, and a high, silvery voice called on the housekeeper.

"It's that imp, Neddy Mellin, with the washing," said Mrs. Vence, hurrying towards the door. "Don't let the child see the corpse."

She was too late. Neddy suddenly shot into the room, smiling and angelic in his looks. But the smile died away when he saw the body. "Crikey!" breathed the lad, turning white, "is the cove a deader?"

"You leave the washing in the hall and cut!" commanded the old woman. "How dare you come in by the front door?"

"Neddy," said Jervis, who knew the lad well, as did everyone else in Hedgerton, "go to Dr. Quin, and ask him to come here at once."

"And I'll give you a shilling," said Lemby, sitting down.

"I'm fly," said Neddy, promptly, and reluctantly backed out of the room. He was anxious to earn the shilling, but still more anxious to gaze on the body. "Let me see the deader when I come back," he called out.

"Get along with you; get along!" vociferated Mrs. Vence, and chased him out of the front door into the mists. When she turned back after closing the door she glanced at the rosewood table on which Hall had placed the letter. It was gone. There was not a sign of it to be seen. And the front door had been open from the time the man had escaped until now. It was very strange.