When they reached the inn Queensmead asked Colwyn in a whisper to keep an eye on the prisoner while he went inside and got the brandy. As soon as he had gone Colwyn turned to Ronald and earnestly said:
"You may not know me, apart from our chance meeting at Durrington, but I am anxious to help you, if you are innocent."
"I have heard of you. You are Colwyn, the private detective."
"That makes it easier then, for you will know that I have no object in this case except to bring the truth to light. If you have anything to say that will help me to do that I beg of you to do so. You may safely trust me."
"I know that, Mr. Colwyn, but I have nothing to say." Ronald spoke wearily—almost indifferently.
"Nothing?" Astonishment and disappointment were mingled in the detective's voice.
"Nothing."
Before anything more could be said Queensmead reappeared from the inn with some brandy in a glass. Ronald raised it to his lips with his manacled hands, then turned away in response to an imperative gesture from Queensmead. Colwyn stood where he was for a moment, watching them, then turned to enter the inn. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the white face of Peggy, framed in the gathering gloom of the passage, staring with frightened eyes at the retreating forms of the village constable and his prisoner. She slipped out of the door and took a few hurried steps in their direction. But when she reached the strip of green which bordered the side of the inn she stopped with a despairing gesture, as though realising the futility of her effort, and turned to retrace her steps. Colwyn advanced rapidly towards her.
"I want to speak to you," he said curtly.
She stood still, but there was a prescient flash in her eyes as she looked at him.