“Law bless you, sir! Them gals is always a-fancyin’ things. They ought to have bin a-bed and asleep. No, no, sir. It wasn’t any more than five-and-twenty to ten.”
“This gentleman stayed at ‘The Silver Fleece’ a fortnight, you say. Now, during all that time did you notice anything strange about him?”
“Well, sir, he used to go about with a little hammer, chippin’ off bits o’ stone from the cliffs and suchlike, and in the evenin’ he’d sit in his room and write a good deal.”
“Did you talk with him at all on the subject of Mr Hubert Dorrien’s disappearance?”
“Yes, sir. I was the first to tell him of it.”
“Oh! And how did he seem to take it?”
“Cool as a blessed cucumber, sir. And when I told him that the ghost had been seen on The Skegs, he laughed in my face outright and said it was all humbug.”
“Ha-ha! Of course. Thank you, Grainger. That’ll do. Er—one more question. Do you know the place called Smugglers’ Ladder?”
“Well, sir, I’ve been there.”
“How long does it take to walk there from Battisford?”