"Um!" mused Starmidge. "I wonder if this poor fellow was making his way there—to see him?"
"How should he—a stranger—know of this short cut?" demurred Neale. "I don't think that's very likely."
"That's true—unless he'd had it pointed out to him," rejoined Starmidge. "It's odd, anyway, that his body should be found half-way, as it were, between Gabriel Chestermarke's place and Joseph Chestermarke's house—isn't it now? But, Lord bless you!—we're only on the fringe of this business as yet. Well—just take a look at him."
Neale walked within the group of bystanders, feeling an intense dislike and loathing of the whole thing. In obedience to Starmidge's wish, he looked steadily at the dead man and turned away.
"You don't know him?—never saw him during the five years you were at the bank?" whispered the detective. "Think!—make certain, now."
"Never saw him in my life!" declared Neale, stepping back. "I neither know him nor anything about him."
"I wanted you to make sure," said Starmidge. "I thought you might—possibly—recollect him as somebody who'd called at the bank during your time."
"No!" said Neale. "Certainly not! I've never set eyes on him until now. Of course, he's Hollis, I suppose?"
"Oh, without doubt!" answered Polke, who caught Neale's question as he came up. "He's Hollis, right enough. Mr. Neale—here's a difficulty. It's a queer thing, but there isn't one of us here who knows if this spot is in Scarnham or in Ellersdeane. Do you? Is it within our borough boundary, or is it in Ellersdeane parish? The Ellersdeane policeman there doesn't know, and I'm sure I don't! It's a point of importance, because the inquest'll have to be held in the parish in which the body was found."
The Ellersdeane constable who had followed Polke suddenly raised a finger and pointed across the heather.