he came into the Bay. However, I found out for him that
she wouldn't be in until next evening, so of course he settled down to
wait. Very quiet, reserved old fellow--never said much."

"Did he go off on the tender next night?" asked Gilling.

"He did--and came back with this other gentleman and his baggage--this
Mr. Greyle," answered the landlord. "Mr. Chatfield had booked a room for
Mr. Greyle."

"And what sort of man was Mr. Greyle?" inquired Gilling. "That's really
the important thing. You've an exceptionally good memory--I can see that.
Tell us all you can recollect about him."

"I can recollect plenty," replied the landlord, shaking his head. "As for
his looks--a tallish, slightly-built young fellow, between, I should say,
twenty-five and twenty-eight. Stooped a good bit. Very dark hair and
eyes--eyes a good deal sunken in his face. Very pale--good-looking--good
features. But ill--my sakes! he was ill!"

"Ill!" exclaimed Gilling, with a glance at Copplestone. "Really ill!"

"He was that ill," said the landlord, "that me and my wife never expected
to see him get up that next morning. We wanted them to have a doctor but
Mr. Greyle himself said that it was nothing, but that he had some heart
trouble and that the voyage had made it worse. He said that if he took
some medicine which he had with him, and a drop of hot brandy-and-water,
and got a good night's sleep he'd be all right. And next morning he
seemed better, and he got up to breakfast--but my wife said to me that if
she'd seen death on a man's face it was on his! She's a bit of a
persuasive tongue, has my wife, and when she heard that these two
gentlemen were thinking of going a long journey--right away to the far
north, it was, I believe--she got 'em to go and see the doctor first, for
she felt that Mr. Greyle wasn't fit for the exertion."

"Did they go?" asked Gilling.

"They did! I talked, myself, to the old gentleman," replied the landlord.
"And I showed them the way to our own doctor--Dr. Tretheway. And as a
result of what he said to them, I heard them decide to break up their
journey into stages, as you might term it. They left here for Bristol
that afternoon--to stay the night there."

"You're sure of that?--Bristol?" asked Gilling.

"Ought to be," replied the landlord, with laconic assurance. "I
went to the station with them and saw them off. They booked to
Bristol--anyway--first class."

Gilling looked at his companion.

"I think we'd bett