"What am I to say to him?" demanded Billy.
"Oh, just tell him that you were out duck-shooting, and spotted two sportsmen blowing holes through my hat. If he asks you whether you could recognise them, you'd better say they were a couple of rough-looking blackguards something like police constables. We don't want him to get on to the Hollies yet awhile."
Billy laughed. "All right," he said, getting up; "I'll handle him with gloves on. I may as well be off now. Don't get into any more mischief while I'm away."
We parted company outside the hotel, Billy going off to the police station, and I strolling up the street in search of Aunt Mary's marmalade. Having secured this, and given instructions that it was to be sent to Ashton at once, I proceeded to make a further inspection of the old town. My wanderings brought me eventually to the bar parlour of the Bull, the second principal hotel, which struck me as a very suitable place for making inquiries as to the whereabouts of Barham Bridge.
I was enlightened on this point by a genial, clean-shaven gentleman in sporting get-up, who was engaged in shifting a morning sherry-and-bitters.
"Barham Bridge!" he said. "Oh yes; it's about two miles up the road to the left. You can't mistake it, because there's an old ruined mill standing back in the field just beyond."
I thanked him, and we chatted away cheerfully for about a quarter of an hour, in the course of which I discovered that his name was Cumming, that he lived in the neighbourhood, was a keen yachtsman, and by profession a well-known writer of bloodthirsty adventure-stories for the popular weekly papers. I only regretted that circumstances prevented me from being equally confidential. But for my promise to Northcote, I felt that I could have given him a plot which would have made him my friend for life!
Returning to the Plough, I received the key of the garage and indulged in a brief inspection of the car. My knowledge of motors is decidedly limited, but as she started up all right, it seemed to me that there couldn't be much the matter with her. So I contented myself with filling up the petrol tank and pumping in some oil. It was while I was engaged in the latter operation that Billy reappeared.
"They told me you were out here," he said. "Nothing the matter with the car, is there?"
"No," I said, "she's all right. I was only filling her up, because I'm thinking of using her this afternoon. How did you get on with the Inspector?"