nspector Harrison came over the
two hundred odd miles that separated the metropolis of convicts from
the metropolis of the world.

"Man apparently murdered here, inspector. Chap who is thought to
have done it disappeared. Widow wants me to take up case. I'm
unwilling to do so; but it looks like duty." So spoke Brendon.

"Right. If it looks like duty, do it. Let me hear again to-night.
Halfyard, chief at Princetown, is an old friend of mine. Very good
man. Good-bye."

Mark then learned that Inspector Halfyard was already at Foggintor.

"I'm on this," said Mark to the constable. "I'll come in again. Tell
the inspector to expect me at noon for all details. I'm going to see
Mrs. Pendean now."

The policeman saluted. He knew Brendon very well by sight.

"I hope it won't knock a hole in your holiday, sir. But I reckon it
won't. It's all pretty plain sailing by the look of it."

"Where's the body?"

"That's what we don't know yet, Mr. Brendon; and that's what only
Robert Redmayne can tell us by the look of it."

The detective nodded. Then he sought No. 3, Station Cottages.

The little row of attached houses ran off at right angles to the
high street of Princetown. They faced northwest, and immediately in
front of them rose the great, tree-clad shoulder of North Hessory
Tor. The woods ascended steeply and a stone wall ran between them
and the dwellings beneath.

Brendon knocked at No. 3 and was admitted by a thin, grey-haired
woman who had evidently been shedding tears. He found himself in a
little hall decorated with many trophies of fox hunting. There were
masks and brushes and several specimens of large Dartmoor foxes, who
had run their last and now stood stuffed in cases hung upon the
walls.

"Do I speak to Mrs. Pendean?" asked Brendon; but the old woman shook
her head.

"No, sir. I'm Mrs. Edward Gerry, widow of the famous Ned Gerry, for
twenty years Huntsman of the Dartmoor Foxhounds. Mr. and Mrs.
Pendean were--are--I mean she is my lodger."

"Is she ready to see me?"

"She's cruel hard hit, poor lady. What name, sir?"

"Mr. Mark Brendon."

"She hoped you'd come. But go gentle with her. 'Tis a fearful ordeal
for any innocent person to have to talk to you, sir."

Mrs. Gerry opened a door upon the right hand of the entrance.

"The great Mr. Brendon be here, Mrs. Pendean," she said; then
Brendon walked in and the widow shut the door behind him.

Jenny Pendean rose from her chair by the table where s