“Why, here is Mr. Draper himself,” exclaimed the sergeant, stopping short and waving his hand.  “I expect he has heard the news already.”

Thorndyke and I also halted, and with some curiosity watched the approach of this new party to the tragedy.  As the stranger drew near we saw that he was a tall, athletic-looking man of about forty, dressed in a Norfolk knickerbocker suit, and having the appearance of an ordinary country gentleman, excepting that he carried in his hand, in place of a walking-stick, the staff of a butterfly-net, the folding ring and bag of which partly projected from his pocket.

“Is it true, Sergeant?” he exclaimed as he came up to us, panting from his exertions.  “About Mr. Hearn, I mean.  There is a rumour that he has been found dead on the beach.”

“It’s quite true, sir, I am sorry to say; and, what is worse, he has been murdered.”

“My God! you don’t say so!”

He turned towards us a face that must ordinarily have been jovial enough, but was now white and scared and, after a brief pause, he exclaimed: 

“Murdered!  Good God!  Poor old Hearn!  How did it happen, Sergeant? and when? and is there any clue to the murderer?”

“We can’t say for certain when it happened,” replied the sergeant, “and as to the question of clues, I was just coming up to call on you.”

“On me!” exclaimed Draper, with a startled glance at the officer.  “What for?”

“Well, we should like to know something about Mr. Hearn—­who he was, and whether he had any enemies, and so forth; anything, in fact, that would give as a hint where to look for the murderer.  And you are the only person in the place who knew him at all intimately.”

Mr Draper’s pallid face turned a shade paler, and he glanced about him with an obviously embarrassed air.

“I’m afraid.” he began in a hesitating manner, “I’m afraid I shan’t be able to help you much.  I didn’t know much about his affairs.  You see he was—­well—­only a casual acquaintance—­”

“Well,” interrupted the sergeant, “you can tell us who and what he was, and where he lived, and so forth.  We’ll find out the rest if you give us the start.”

“I see,” said Draper.  “Yes, I expect you will.”  His eyes glanced restlessly to and fro, and he added presently:  “You must come up to-morrow, and have a talk with me about him, and I’ll see what I can remember.”

“I’d rather come this evening,” said the sergeant firmly.

“Not this evening,” pleaded Draper.  “I’m feeling rather—­this affair, you know, has upset me.  I couldn’t give proper attention—­”

His sentence petered out into a hesitating mumble, and the officer looked at him in evident surprise at his nervous, embarrassed manner.  His own attitude, however, was perfectly firm, though polite.

“I don’t like pressing you, sir,” said he, “but time is precious—­we’ll have to go single file here; this pond is a public nuisance.  They ought to bank it up at this end.  After you, sir.”