ight, and he'd leave Mr. Lindsey
to see to it, he rose to go, but at the door paused and came back.

"I'm thinking of dropping in at the police-station and telling Murray my
ideas about that Crone affair," he remarked. "It's my opinion, Mr.
Lindsey, that there's salmon-poaching going on hereabouts, and if my land
adjoined either Tweed or Till I'd have spoken about it before. There are
queer characters about along both rivers at nights--I know, because I go
out a good deal, very late, walking, to try and cure myself of insomnia;
and I know what I've seen. It's my impression that Crone was probably
mixed up with some gang, and that his death arose out of an affray
between them."

"That's probable," answered Mr. Lindsey. "There was trouble of that sort
some years ago, but I haven't heard of it lately. Certainly, it would be
a good thing to start the idea in Murray's mind; he might follow it up
and find something out."

"That other business--the Phillips murder--might have sprung out of the
same cause," suggested Sir Gilbert. "If those chaps caught a stranger in
a lonely place--"

"The police have a theory already about Phillips," remarked Mr. Lindsey.
"They think he was followed from Peebles, and murdered for the sake of
money that he was carrying in a bag he had with him. And my experience,"
he added with a laugh, "is that if the police once get a theory of their
own, it's no use suggesting any other to them--they'll ride theirs,
either till it drops or they get home with it."

Sir Gilbert nodded his head, as if he agreed with that, and he suddenly
gave Mr. Lindsey an inquiring look.

"What's your own opinion?" he asked.

But Mr. Lindsey was not to be drawn. He laughed and shrugged his
shoulders, as if to indicate that the affair was none of his.

"I wouldn't say that I have an opinion, Sir Gilbert," he answered.
"It's much too soon to form one, and I haven't the details, and I'm not
a detective. But all these matters are very simple--when you get to the
bottom of them. The police think this is going to be a very simple
affair--mere vulgar murder for the sake of mere vulgar robbery. We
shall see!"

Then Sir Gilbert went away, and Mr. Lindsey looked at me, who stood a
little apart, and he saw that I was thinking.

"Well, my lad," he said; "a bit dazed by your new opening? It's a fine
chance for you, too! Now, I suppose, you'll be wanting to get married. Is
it that you're thinking about?"

"Well, I was not, Mr