But if the stranger in the long coat had little evidence to give, Pike had even less.  He had been in the woods that afternoon and sauntered to the bank of the river just as Lord Hartledon passed in the skiff; but he had taken very little notice of him.  It was only when the last witness, who came up at the moment, remarked upon the queer manner in which his lordship held his arm, that he saw it was lying idle.

Not a thing more could he or would he tell.  It was all he knew, he said, and would swear it was all.  He went back to Calne with the last witness, and never saw his lordship again alive.

It did appear to be all, just as it did in the matter of the other man.  The coroner inquired whether he had seen any one else on the banks or near them, and Pike replied that he had not set eyes on another soul, which Percival knew to be false, for he had seen him.  He was told to put his signature to his evidence, which the clerk had taken down, and affixed a cross.

“Can’t you write?” asked the coroner.

Pike shook his head negatively.  “Never learnt,” he curtly said.  And Percival believed that to be an untruth equally with the other.  He could not help thinking that the avowal of their immediate return might also be false:  it was just as possible that one or other, or both, had followed the course of the boat.

Mr. Carteret was examined.  He could tell no more than he had already told.  They started together, but he had soon got beyond his lordship, and had never seen him again alive.  There was nothing more to be gleaned or gathered.  Not the smallest suspicion of foul play, or of its being anything but a most unfortunate accident, was entertained for a moment by any one who heard the evidence, and the verdict of the jury was to that effect:  Accidental Death.

As the crowd pressed out of the inquest-room, jostling one another in the gloom of the evening, and went their several ways, Lord Hartledon found himself close to Gorton, his coat flapping as he walked.  The man was looking round for Pike:  but Mr. Pike, the instant his forced evidence was given, had slunk away from the gaze of his fellow-men to ensconce himself in his solitary shed.  To all appearance Lord Hartledon had overtaken Gorton by accident:  the man turned aside in obedience to a signal, and halted.  They could not see much of each other’s faces in the twilight.

“I wish to ask you a question,” said Percival in low, impressive, and not unkindly tones.  “Did you speak with my brother, Lord Hartledon, at all on Tuesday?”

“No, my lord, I did not,” was the ready answer.  “I was trying to get to see his lordship, but did not.”

“What did you want with him?  What brought you back to Calne?”