"You don't trust me then?"
"I do. But I cannot wait longer. It is impossible. I shall go mad! What have you been doing? What have you discovered?"
"Very little as yet," said the detective, cautiously. "But you excite yourself unnecessarily. Why don't you stay indoors quietly and rest? That lad tells me you are always here, pacing up and down and fretting."
"I am," said Leicester. "I cannot tear myself away from this spot. It was here that the murder was done—just here, where I stand. From here I can see my old home and the spot where I first saw her. You cannot understand what a fascination this place has for me."
"Perhaps I can't; perhaps I can," said the detective. "And so you won't stay here?"
"No," said Leicester. "There is danger in it if there was no other reason. That lad has sharp eyes, and some day he will recognize me."
"Hem!" said Mr. Dockett. "That's the lad who behaves so strangely. I suppose——"
Then he paused as if an idea had struck him.
"Will you come back with me?" he said. "I don't mind confessing that I have as good as failed in London myself. Whether a mate of mine finds anything or not I can't say. He's at work, and he's a sharp fellow. I'm inclined, however, seeing the state of mind you are in, to push matters on, and I've hit on an idea."
"I'll come," said Leicester, and together they returned to the cottage.