"Certain of it," said Forrest. "Now we will get along to Shefford."
We had a very pleasant run, and a mile from the village, Forrest stopped me where a deep pool fringed with rushes skirted the road.
"This is the spot," he cried.
He left me in the car and scrambled through the hedge into an adjoining field. He came running back with a dilapidated overcoat sodden with water in one hand, and a piece of rope in the other.
"Thought I could not be mistaken," he cried.
When he was again in the car he examined the rope carefully.
"Just an ordinary piece of half-inch cord," he remarked. "It's not of much value as a clue, but as a piece of evidence—I have known a man's life hang upon a slighter thread before now." He chuckled grimly at his own pleasantry.
"Where next?" I inquired.
"Towcester," he replied; and I wheeled the car round, and we were soon making the dust fly again.
We were not detained very long at the inquest. Forrest had a few words with the coroner, so that after formal evidence of identification had been given, and I had made my statement as to the finding of the body, the inquiry was adjourned. Thus plenty of time was left at our disposal, and we did not hurry on our way to town, even breaking our journey on the way for lunch.