"I, William Warden, Superintendent of Police for the Borough of Maldon, desire to report to the Commissioner of Metropolitan Police the following statement from Sergeant S. Deacon, Essex Constabulary, stationed at Southminster, which is as below:
"'On Friday, the thirteenth of September last, a gentleman, evidently a foreigner, was sent by Messrs. Hare and James, estate agents, of Malden, to view the house known as The Yews, at Asheldham, in the vicinity of Southminster, and agreed to take it for three years in order to start a poultry farm. The tenant entered into possession a week later, when one vanload of furniture arrived from London. Two days later three other vanloads arrived late in the evening, and were unpacked in the stable-yard at dawn. The tenant, whose name is Bailey—but whose letters come addressed "Baily," and are mostly from Belgium—lived there alone for a fortnight, and was afterwards joined by a foreign man-servant named Pietro, who is believed to be an Italian. Though more than three months have elapsed, and I have kept observation upon the house—a large one, standing in its own grounds—I have seen no sign of poultry farming, and therefore deem it a matter for a report.—Samuel Deacon, Sergeant, Essex Constabulary.'"
"Curious!" remarked Walter, when he had finished reading it.
"Yes," said Trendall. "There may be nothing in it."
"It should be inquired into!" declared Walter. "I'll take Summers and go down there to have a look round, if you like."
"I wish you would," said the chief. "I'll 'phone Summers to meet you at Liverpool Street Station," he added, turning to the railway guide. "There's a train at one forty-five. Will that suit you?"
"Yes. Tell him to meet me at Liverpool Street—and we'll see who this 'Mr. Baily' really is."
When, shortly after half-past one, the novelist walked on to the platform at Liverpool Street he was approached by a narrow-faced, middle-aged man in a blue serge suit who presented the appearance of a ship's engineer on leave.
As they sat together in a first-class compartment Fetherston explained to his friend the report made by the police officer at Southminster—the next station to Burnham-on-Crouch—whereupon Summers remarked: "The doctor has been down this way once or twice of late. I wonder if he goes to pay this Mr. Baily, or Bailey, a visit?"
"Perhaps," laughed Walter. "We shall see."