"Not definitely," replied Neale. "But it's believed he did. He was seen to set off in this direction, and there's a probability that he crossed over here on his way to Ellersdeane. But he's never been seen since he left Scarnham."
"Well," observed Creasy, "as I said just now, he wouldn't happen anything by accident in an ordinary way. Was there any reason why anybody should set on him?"
"There may have been," replied Neal.
"He wouldn't be likely to have aught valuable on him, surely—that time o' night?" said the tinker.
"He may have had," admitted Neale. "I can't tell you more."
Creasy asked no farther question. He led the way to the foot of the promontory, at a point where a mass of rock rose sheer out of the hollow to the plateau crowned by the ruinous tower.
"Here's where I picked up the pipe," he said. "Lying amongst this rubbish—stones and dry wood, you see—I just caught the gleam of the silver band. Now what should Mr. Horbury be doing down here? The path, you see, is a good thirty yards off. But—he may have fallen over—or been thrown over—and it's a sixty-feet drop from top to bottom."
Neale and Betty looked up the face of the rocks and said nothing. And Creasy presently went on, speaking in a low voice:—
"If he met with foul play—if, for instance, he was thrown over here in a struggle—or if, taking a look from the top there, he got too near the edge and something gave way," he said, "there's about as good means of getting rid of a dead man in this Ellersdeane Hollow as in any place in England! That's a fact!"
"You mean the lead-mines?" murmured Neale.