“Perhaps,” she said; and then swiftly passed out of the little glade, leaving John standing there as though he had been turned to stone.

Rather ostentatiously, I stepped forward, crackling some dead branches with my feet as I did so. John turned. Luckily, he took it for granted that I had only just come upon the scene.

“Hullo, Hastings. Have you seen the little fellow safely back to his cottage? Quaint little chap! Is he any good, though, really?”

“He was considered one of the finest detectives of his day.”

“Oh, well, I suppose there must be something in it, then. What a rotten world it is, though!”

“You find it so?” I asked.