“They do, sir.”

“Go ahead, then,” I told him.

“They refer also, sir,” he said, “to the man who was found dead near the cottage where you used to live in January last.  He was supposed to have been washed up from the sea, but it has recently been stated that he was seen, on the evening of the day before his body was found, in the village, and it is also stated that he inquired from a certain person as to the whereabouts of your cottage.  He set out with the intention of calling upon you, and he was found dead in the morning by you, sir, within a hundred yards of where you were living.”

“Anything else, Grooton?”

“There is a lot of foolish talk, sir.  He is said to have been a relative of yours with whom you were not on good terms, and the young lady who has just given this information to the police through her father states that she has remained silent up to now at your request.”

“I am supposed, then,” I said, “to be concerned in this fellow’s death?”

“I have heard that opinion openly expressed, sir,” Grooton assented, respectfully.

I nodded.

“Thank you, Grooton,” I said.  “I shall be prepared then for anything that may happen.  If you hear anything further let me know.”

“I shall not fail to do so, sir,” he answered.

He bowed and withdrew.  Then as I lit my pipe and resumed my seat it suddenly occurred to me that the man who was chiefly concerned in this matter should at least be warned.  I sat down at my desk and wrote to Ray.  I had scarcely finished when I heard footsteps outside, followed by an imperious knocking at my front door.  I opened it at once.  The Duke and Lady Angela entered.  I saw at once from her disturbed expression that something had happened.

The Duke wore a long cape over his dinner clothes, and he had evidently walked fast.  He looked at me sharply as I rose to my feet.

“Mr. Ducaine,” he said, “I have come to ask you to explain the sudden departure of my son for abroad.”

I was taken aback, and I dare say I showed it.

“I have already told Lady Angela—­all that I know,” I said.

“My daughter’s story,” the Duke answered, “is incoherent.  It tells me only enough to make me sure that something is being concealed.”

I glanced at Lady Angela.  She was looking white and troubled.

“I have told my father,” she said, “all that I know.”

“Then I must discover the rest for myself,” the Duke replied.  “I know that Blenavon is uncertain and unstable to a degree.  When I heard that he had left for the Continent, I was not particularly surprised or interested.  I have only just discovered the manner of his leaving.  It puts an entirely different complexion upon the affair.  I understand that he left with Colonel Ray without luggage or explanations of any sort.  His own servant had no warning, and was left behind.  My daughter informs me that such information as she has she gained from you.  I require you to supplement it.”