ll."

"I'll wait, Mr. Elkin," said Robinson solemnly. "I want to have a word
with you."

The policeman was glad of the respite. He needed time to collect his
thoughts. The story of the dinner-party and its excitement disposed
completely of Elkin's malicious theory with regard to Grant, but, since
the horse-dealer was minded to be communicative, it would be well to
encourage him.

"Come in, and have a drink," said Elkin, when the colt had been stabled.

"No, thanks--not when I'm on duty."

Elkin raised his eyebrows sarcastically. He could not possibly guess that
Robinson was adopting Furneaux's pose of never accepting hospitality
from a man whom he might have to arrest.

"Well, blaze away. I'm ready."

The younger man leaned against a gate. He looked ill and physically worn.

"Your business has kept you out late of a night recently, you say, Mr.
Elkin," began the other, speaking as casually as he could contrive. "Now,
it might help a lot if you can call to mind anyone you met on the roads
at ten or eleven o'clock. For instance, last night--"

Elkin laughed in a queer, croaking way.

"Last night my mare brought me home. I was decidedly sprung, Robinson.
Glad you didn't spot me, or there might have been trouble. What between
the inquest, an' no food, an' more than a few drinks at Knoleworth, I'd
have passed Owd Ben himself without seeing him, though I believe I did
squint in at The Hollies as I went by."

"What time would that be?"

"Oh, soon after eleven."

"Sure."

"I can't be certain to ten minutes or so. The pubs hadn't closed when I
left Knoleworth. What the devil does it matter, anyhow?"

It mattered a great deal. Robinson could testify that Elkin did not cross
Steynholme bridge "soon after eleven."

"Nothing much," was the answer. "You see, I'm anxious to find out who
might be stirring at that hour, an' you know everybody for miles around.
I'd like to fix your journey by the clock, if I could."

"Dash it all, man, I was full to the eyes. There! You have it straight."

"Were you out on Monday night?"

"The night of the murder?"

"Yes."

"I left the Hare and Hounds at ten, and came straight home."

"Who was there with you?"

"The usual crowd--Hobbs, and Siddle, and Bob Smith, and a commercial
traveler. Siddle went at half past nine, but he generally does."

"You met no one on the road?"

"No."

The monosyllable seemed to lack Elkin's usual confidence. It sounded
as if he had been mak