Talbot Bulstrode watched the man as he took this mental photograph of the place. There was a business-like composure in his manner, which was entirely different to the eager curiosity of a scandalmonger and a busybody.
Mr. Bulstrode rose as the man walked away, and went slowly after him.
"Stop where you are, John," he said, as he left his companion; "I'll find out who this fellow is."
He walked on, and overtook the stranger at about a hundred yards from the pond.
"I want to have a few words with you before you leave the Park, my friend," he said quietly: "unless I'm very much mistaken, you are a member of the detective police, and come here with credentials from Scotland Yard."
The man shook his head, with a quiet smile.
"I'm not obliged to tell everybody my business," he answered coolly; "this footpath is a public thoroughfare, I believe?"
"Listen to me, my good fellow," said Mr. Bulstrode. "It may serve your purpose to beat about the bush; but I have no reason to do so, and therefore may as well come to the point at once. If you are sent here for the purpose of discovering the murderer of James Conyers, you can be more welcome to no one than to the master of that house."
He pointed to the Gothic chimneys as he spoke.
"If those who employ you have promised you a liberal reward, Mr. Mellish will willingly treble the amount they may have offered you. He would not give you cause to complain of his liberality, should you succeed in accomplishing the purpose of your errand. If you think you will gain anything by underhand measures, and by keeping yourself dark, you are very much mistaken; for no one can be better able or more willing to give you assistance in this than Mr. and Mrs. Mellish."