They, on their part, stared at him half bewildered, half amazed. He had on a long motor coat which shrouded him from head to foot; a cap which covered not only his ears but also part of his face; while his disguise was completed by a pair of huge goggles. It was only when he removed these latter that--in spite of the dust which enveloped him as flour over a miller--they recognised who he was. He repeated his own words in a slightly different form.
"You were saying, Mr Nunn, that you were requiring the services of a magistrate. How can I serve you in that capacity?"
The detective stared at the gigantic figure, towering over his own by no means insignificant inches, still in doubt as to who he was.
"I ought to know you; but, somehow, I don't feel as if I can place you exactly, sir."
Mr Morice smiled.
"Tell him, Granger, who I am."
Mr Granger explained.
"This is Mr Hugh Morice, of Oak Dene, Justice of the Peace for this division of the county. You can't have forgotten him, Mr Nunn; he used to be present at the coroner's inquest."
"Of course; now that Granger reminds me I remember you very well, Mr Morice. You have arrived at a fortunate moment for me, sir. I was just about to start off in search of a magistrate, and that, in the country, at this time of night, sometimes means a long job. I wish to lay an information before you, sir, and ask for a warrant."
Mr Morice glanced at the three women.