"One moment," interpolated Hench at this remark. "I may mention that I also came to Cookley on that night by that train. I had an idea that Madame Alpenny was at my elbow. In fact, I fancied that I caught a glimpse of her in the crowd at Liverpool Street Station. But I thought that I was mistaken."
"You wasn't mistaken, sir," said Bottles calmly.
"She was in the crowd, sure enough, and went down by that train. So did you, sir, for I saw you, and dodged."
"Good!" said Spruce, rubbing his hands. "This unsolicited testimony of yours, Hench, emphasizes the fact of the woman's guilt. Go on, Simon."
"The train got here at half-past six. I had already sent a telegram to my brother saying that Madame was coming, and telling him to meet the train and watch. He was on the Cookley platform, sure enough, but I hadn't any time to speak to him, having to keep my eye on Madame Alpenny. She didn't go through the village street, but across the fields to the churchyard and then by the path to Parley Wood. I followed, hiding as often as I could."
"She didn't see you, then?" inquired Vane idly.
"No, sir. I was much too fly. Peter, he came also at a distance, and hid in the churchyard, while I follered Madame Alpenny into the wood. She made for the Gipsy Stile."
"How did you know where that was?" inquired Hench.
"Why, sir," said the boy, greatly surprised, "of course I was there before when she and the old cove talked together about the advertisement."
"Yes! Yes! I understand."