y the evidently thick walls, came the faintest sound of metal beating
on metal--a mere rippling, tinkling sound, light and musical, such as
might have been made by fairy blacksmiths beating on a fairy anvil. But
far away as it sounded, it was clear and unmistakable.

Starmidge regained the path between the wall and the river and went
slowly forward. The place, he decided, was evidently some sort of a
workshop, in which was a forge: probably Joseph Chestermarke amused
himself with a little amateur work in metals. He thought no more of the
matter just then; he wanted to explore the river-bank along which he now
walked. For according to the story of the landlady of the Station Hotel,
it was on that river-bank that the mysterious stranger was to meet
whoever it was that he spoke to over the telephone, and so far
Starmidge had not had an opportunity of examining its geography.

There was not much to examine. The river, a mere ditch, eight or ten
yards in breadth, wandered through a level mead at the base of the
valley, separated from the gardens by a wide path. Between Scarnham
Bridge, at the foot of Cornmarket and the corner of Joseph
Chestermarke's big garden, and the end of Cordmaker's Alley, a narrow
street which ran down from the further end of the Market-Place to the
river-side, there were no features of any note or interest. On the other
side of the river lay the deep woods through which Neale and Betty
Fosdyke had passed on their way to Ellersdeane Hollow: Starmidge had
heard all about that expedition, and he glanced curiously at the black
depths of the trees, wondering if John Horbury and the mysterious
stranger, supposing they had met, had turned into these woods to hold
their conference. He presently came to the foot-bridge by which access
to the woods and the other bank of the river was gained, and by it he
lingered for a moment or two, looking at it in its bearings to the
bank-house garden and orchard on his left hand, and to the Station
Hotel, the lights of which he could plainly see down the valley.
Certainly, if John Horbury and the stranger desired to meet in secret,
here was the place. The stranger had nothing to do but stroll along the
river-bank from the hotel; Horbury had only to step out of his orchard
and meet him. Once together, they had only to cross that foot-bridge
into the woods to be immediately in surroundings of great privacy.

Starmidge turned up Cordmaker's Alley, regained the Market-Place,