d keep a look out for your lost pocket-book. I'll
watch the pit, and if anybody goes down it I'll arrest him."

"If the attempt is made it will not be in daytime--it will be in the
night, you may be sure of that. I want you to watch the pit at night.
The life of an innocent man may depend on your vigilance. It will only
be for two nights, or three at the most. I shall certainly return within
three days."

"You may depend on me," replied the constable. "I will go to the pit as
soon as it grows dark, and watch from the edge of the wood till
daylight."

"Thank you," said Colwyn. "I felt sure you would do it when you knew
what was at stake. I have an idea that your vigil will not be
disturbed, but I want to be on the safe side. I suppose you are not
afraid of the ghost?"

"You have heard of the White Lady of the Shrieking Pit?" said
Queensmead, looking at the other curiously.

"I have heard of her, but I have not heard her, or seen her. Have you?"

"I cannot say I have, but I live at the wrong end of the village, and I
never go out at night. But there are plenty of villagers, principally
customers of the _Anchor_, who are prepared to take their Bible oath
that they have heard her--if not seen her. The White Lady has terrorised
the whole village--since the murder."

There was something in the tone of the last three words which attracted
the detective's attention.

"There was not much talk of the ghost before the murder, then?" he
asked.

"Very little. I have been stationed here for two years, and hardly knew
of its existence. Of course, it's a deep-rooted local tradition, and
every villager has heard the story in childhood, and most of them
believe it. Many of them actually think they have heard moans and
shrieks coming from the rise during this last week or so. It's a lonely
sort of place, with very little to talk about; it doesn't take much to
get a story like that going round."

"Then you think there is some connection between the reappearance of the
ghost and the hiding of the money in the pit it is supposed to haunt?"

"It's not my business to draw inferences of that kind, sir. I leave that
to my betters, if they think fit to do so. I am only the village
constable."

"But you've already inferred that the legend has been spread round again
by means of gossip at the _Anchor_. Was it started there?"

"It was and it wasn't. A fool of a fellow named Backlog burst into the
tap-room one night and said he had h