to the flight
of time.

"I must get back," he said. "I intended to see Dr. Ravenshaw, but I shall
leave that until later. Can I get a conveyance back to Penzance?"

"There is a public wagonette. I am not sure when, it goes, but it starts
from 'The Three Jolly Wreckers' at the other end of the churchtown."

"'The Three Jolly Wreckers!' That's rather a cynical name for a Cornish
inn, isn't it?"

"Oh, the Cornish people are not ashamed of the old wrecking days, I assure
you."

He accompanied Barrant to the door with the lamp, which he held above his
head to light him down the garden path. Barrant, glancing back, saw him
looking after him, his face outlined in the darkness by the yellow rays of
the lamp.

CHAPTER XIV

Barrant found the inn at the dark end of a stone alley, with the sound of
tipsy singing and shuffling feet coming through the half-open door. He
made his way up three granite steps into a side-entrance, catching a
glimpse through a glass partition of shaggy red faces and pint pots
floating in a fog of tobacco smoke. A stout landlord leaned behind the bar
watching his customers with the tolerant smile of a man who was making a
living out of their merriment. He straightened himself as he caught sight
of Barrant, and opened the sliding window. The detective inquired about
the wagonette, and learnt that it had not yet arrived.

"The roouds is rough, and old Garge Crows takes his time," said the
landlord, eyeing Barrant with a heavy stare. "'Tain't as thow 'e had a
passel of passergers to be teeren rownd after."

"Can you give me some supper while I'm waiting?"

"Sooper?" The innkeeper scratched his chin doubtfully. "'Tis late in the
ebenin' to be getting sooper. There's nawthing greut in the howse. You
could 'ave some tay--p'raps an egg."

"That will do."

The innkeeper roared forth a summons, which was answered by a rugged
Cornish lass from the kitchen. She cast a doubtful glance on the young man
when she learnt what was required, and took him into a small sitting-room,
where she left him to gaze at his leisure upon a framed portrait of Cecil
Rhodes, a stuffed gannet in a large glass case, and a stuffed badger in a
companion case on the other side of the wall. In about twenty minutes she
returned with a tray, and placed before the detective a couple of eggs,
some bread and butter, saffron cake, and a pot of tea. The eggs were of
peculiar mottled exterior, and when tasted had such a strong f