"It is a habit of his to walk at night. He does the same thing in London—walks miles and miles."
We dashed cold water into Rayner's face, gave him a smelling-bottle belonging to one of the maids, and very soon he came round again, opening his eyes in wonder at his surroundings.
"Here's Doctor Sladen," I said. "You feel better now, don't you, Rayner?"
"Yes, sir," was his feeble reply.
"Ah, you've been on one of your night rambles again," I said reprovingly. "You over-do it, you know."
Then Sladen asked him a few questions, and finding that he had recovered, shook my hand and left.
The instant the door was closed upon the doctor Rayner sat up, and with a serious expression upon his face said—
"Something has happened, sir. I don't know what. I'll tell you all I know. I went up to the railway arch as you directed, and lay down in the hedge to wait. After a long time the foreigner from the Overstrand Road came along, lit a cigar, and waited. He was wearing an overcoat, and I suppose he must have waited a full half-hour, until, at last, the cyclist came. They had a brief talk. Then the cyclist left his cycle about fifty yards from where I was in hiding, and both men set off towards the town. I, of course, followed at a decent distance, and they didn't hear me because of the rubber soles on my boots."
"Well, what then?" I inquired impatiently.