gh every opposing consideration. He had decided suddenly that he
wanted to have word from this man Harris--'

'Who is Harris?' interjected Trent.

'Nobody knows. Even Bunner never heard of him, and can't imagine what
the business in hand was. All I know is that when I went up to London
last week to attend to various things I booked a deck-cabin, at
Manderson's request, for a Mr George Harris on the boat that sailed
on Monday. It seems that Manderson suddenly found he wanted news from
Harris which presumably was of a character too secret for the telegraph;
and there was no train that served; so I was sent off as you know.'

Trent looked round to make sure that they were not overheard, then faced
the other gravely, 'There is one thing I may tell you,' he said quietly,
'that I don't think you know. Martin the butler caught a few words at
the end of your conversation with Manderson in the orchard before you
started with him in the car, He heard him say, "If Harris is there,
every moment is of importance." Now, Mr Marlowe, you know my business
here. I am sent to make enquiries, and you mustn't take offence. I want
to ask you if, in the face of that sentence, you will repeat that you
know nothing of what the business was.'

Marlowe shook his head. 'I know nothing, indeed. I'm not easily
offended, and your question is quite fair. What passed during that
conversation I have already told the detective. Manderson plainly said
to me that he could not tell me what it was all about. He simply wanted
me to find Harris, tell him that he desired to know how matters stood,
and bring back a letter or message from him. Harris, I was further told,
might not turn up. If he did, "every moment was of importance". And now
you know as much as I do.'

'That talk took place before he told his wife that you were taking
him for a moonlight run. Why did he conceal your errand in that way, I
wonder.'

The young man made a gesture of helplessness. 'Why? I can guess no
better than you.'

'Why,' muttered Trent as if to himself, gazing on the ground, 'did he
conceal it--from Mrs Manderson?' He looked up at Marlowe.

'And from Martin,' the other amended coolly. 'He was told the same
thing.'

With a sudden movement of his head Trent seemed to dismiss the subject.
He drew from his breast-pocket a letter-case, and thence extracted two
small leaves of clean, fresh paper.

'Just look at these two slips, Mr Marlowe,' he said. 'Did you ever
see them