"Then," mused Mr. Mallory aloud, "it is conclusive that he was not returning from dining at the Manor—a point which could of course have been easily ascertained. He may have been one of those who passed you, but—No, my good man, go away! We don't require any."
The sudden break-off, which drew Reggie and Enid's eyes to the window, was caused by a shabby, down-at-heels individual who was holding up a bunch of dangling bootlaces with the stereotyped smirk and inviting gesture of the street hawker. Accepting his dismissal meekly, he went shambling off to the side entrance from the road.
"Reggie!" cried Enid.
"Madam to you."
"Did you twig who that was?"
"Can't say I did."
"He was the man who looked out of the train on the day of the picnic, and who called out about 'the face in the pool.'"
Mr. Mallory turned sharply round. He had been watching the exit of the tramp from the premises. "Are you sure of that?" he asked.
"Now that Enid has reminded me I am sure of it," Reggie replied. "He is dressed differently, but I remember the bloated, drinky face perfectly. And, by the way, I saw him coming out of the gates of The Hut this morning. Can it be that he was not in that train by chance, but was travelling at the instance of Nugent in order to ensure that the body of Levison should not remain there undiscovered?"
"Precisely what was in my mind," Mr. Mallory rejoined. "And he was probably hanging about this house as a spy in the interests of his employer, for I can see a connexion by which Nugent may have become aware of my active opposition. You went far to confirm my suspicions, my boy, when you told me of Nugent's journey to Weymouth the other day; what has just transpired is finally convincing that there is some villainy hatching with Chermside either as victim or catspaw."