Brews smiled. “Not yet, Miss Johnson. Mr. Hope didn’t see who hit him. We must go canny and make inquiries before we act.”

  They hurried out to the station-yard together, and Brews bundled into the dickey leaving the driving seat for Ned.

  “You are a fraud,” cried Nancy, as Ned took the wheel. “I believe you made up the skirmish because you were afraid to sleep in the haunted house.”

  “Far from it! But I was nearly put to sleep in the haunted marsh,” he replied, gaily. “If you take a microscope and examine the back of my head, you will see where the ruffian’s club impinged. I’m sorry my cap is over the scar at the moment.”

  Nancy leaned back to look at Brews. “Is it true, Inspector?”

  “Quite. Mr. Hope had a lucky escape. He must have moved his head forward as the blow came, and just took the count, instead of going out unpleasantly. But not a word of that to Hench. We must just see how much he knows.”

  She turned again to Ned. “But wasn’t this near his house?”

  “Not so far off,” he replied. “But Hench did not show up. Leave him to Brews. We’ll soon see what part our little friend had in the show.”

  Nancy nodded. “Oh, I shan’t interfere, if this is an official visitation.”

  They drove on in silence, and presently they came out into the road that ran near the orchard of Pear Cottage. They stopped the car presently and got down, to enter the field path, the inspector in the lead.

  Smoke was rising lazily from the chimney of the cottage, and as they approached Hench opened the front door, and came out, a camera under his arm. He stopped as he saw them, hastily leaned the camera on its tripod against the wall, and stared at them.

  “Good-morning,” Brews greeted the little man, cheerfully.

  “Good-morning, inspector,” said Hench, looking past him at the two serious faces staring into his own. “How d’ye do, Miss Johnson. And Mr. Hope, too. I—will you all come in, and sit down?”

  “Thank you,” said Brews. “We will.”

  He led the way into the room, and Ned and Nancy followed gravely. Hench hurried in after them, and began to set out and marshal chairs round the fire with anxious haste.

  He himself remained standing, and Brews stretched out his long legs, and looked at him dispassionately.

  “Just a few questions, Mr. Hench. Before I ask them I must tell you that the matter is a serious one, and I hope you will take it seriously. If your replies are satisfactory I shan’t trouble you again, but I want the truth this time.”

  Hench looked white. “I have always told you the truth, Inspector.”

  “Some of it, sir, some of it, but not all! I want it all now. It’s a serious matter to give false evidence, but it is quite as serious to suppress evidence; a fact of which you don’t seem to be aware.”

  Hench fired up.

  “That’s not true, and you know it!”

  Brews leisurely extracted two envelopes from his pocket. “You posted two letters to me; one properly addressed, the other addressed in capital letters, and anonymous. Is that true?”

  Hench shifted and bit his lip. Brews bluffed. “Do you wish me to produce proof, and convict you of suppressing certain knowledge you had?”

  Hench’s defences broke down; he cried eagerly, “No. I did send them. I admit it. But it was not suppressing evidence. It was giving you evidence. You can see that for yourself.”

  Nancy shrugged and glanced at Ned. Brews pursed his lips.

  “Proof of what?”

  “Proof that the scrap of paper pinned to the girl’s clothes came from a letter.”

  “What of it, sir? We already knew that. The scrap in itself was only of importance in relation to the place, time, and manner, in which the rest of the letter was found. In an investigation of a murder charge every moment counts, and you have held us up for days by this suppression of yours.”

  “I am sorry,” said Hench, biting his lip.

  “Well, it’s done now, and can’t be helped,” Brews replied sternly, “but you may repair a little of the damage by telling me frankly what are the facts. Come now! Where did you find those fragments of the letter?”

  Hench winced, and blurted it out. “Here. I found them here in the grate.”

  “But they weren’t burned.”

  “No, they had been rolled into a ball, and thrown at the fire. They hadn’t gone in.”

  Nancy gave a start, then smiled scornfully and sceptically. She could see from Ned’s face that he was not so much surprised as excited and expectant. Brews nodded, and asked another question.

  “I see. You found the scraps here, but were afraid to say you had found them. Why?”

  Hench stammered. “Because that was after I had heard about the tragedy. I was afraid some one would think I had had a hand in it. I was the only one here who knew Habershon.”

  “Very well. I take that point. But did you notice anything at all out of the way that night when you returned to your cottage after visiting Hitherland?”

  Hench nodded. “I did. That was what made me afraid next day when I knew what had happened. I could say I had seen the policeman, but I was not sure that would let me out. They—you might have taken me for an accomplice.”

  Brews raised his eyebrows. “What did you see?”

  “I thought—in fact I was sure that the chairs were not quite as I had left them.”

  “That all?”

  “Yes. Do you know what I thought too?”

  “No. What was it, sir?”

  “I had seen that light at Fen Court. At first I thought Mr. Hope here had visited his house after dark, and come in here to borrow something, but found me out. I spoke to him next morning in his car, meaning to make myself known as his nearest neighbour, and to ask him if he had called on me the previous evening.”

  Ned looked puzzled. There might be something in what the little man had said. But Brews went on again.

  “I see. Mr. Hope was in a hurry that day, and did not stop to talk. You returned on the night of the crime after ten o’clock, suspected that some one had been in your cottage, and picked up the fragments of a letter which you sent to me later on. Is that right?”

  “Quite right, inspector.”

  “Thank you, sir. Now I will go on to the morning of the inquest; the first inquest held on the bodies. You did not attend that?”

  “I was not subpœnaed.”

  “No; at that time your evidence was not thought essential. I merely want to know what your movements were that morning. You were not, for example, on a road near the railway between Upperton and Tankton?”

  “Certainly not; but let me think,” said Hench. “I—wait a moment—no; I certainly was not. I went inland that day, quite early, to Mereham. I am sure you can check that. I was in Mereham at ten, and did not leave until three. I got permission from Lord Mereham to take photos of herons in his demesne. The keeper could tell you.”

  Brews laid a big note-book on the table, and took out his fountain pen. “Good, sir. I can check that easily. Now we have two witnesses here, and, if you will be good enough to write down all you have told us; in other words, make a statement, and sign it, that will be all for to-day.”

  Hench sat down at the table. “Why not?” he said.

  Brews bowed. “And you might add a statement as to your movements last night between ten o’clock and one,” he said. “Now, then, sir.”

  As Hench scribbled down his statement, Nancy stared at Ned. To her surprise he did not look surprised or displeased. He appeared to be speculating, and once looked up to bestow a glance of admiration on the grave-faced Brews.

  Hench finished, signed, and had his signature witnessed by Nancy and Ned. Then the inspector rose, thanked him, and made a sign to the others that he was ready to go.

  Hench stared at them nervously as they got up. “Good-morning, Inspector,” he said, and then advanced to Ned, and held out his hand, “Good-bye, Mr. Hope.”

  To Nancy’s surprise, Ned shook hands.

  “I’m going to hustle on that business for you, Mr. Hench,” he said. “But I’ll let you have the manuscript back.”

  Hench began to thank him rather hysterically, when Brews cut in.

  “Come along, Mr. Hope. We have another job to do.”

  Nancy did not take Mr. Hench’s hand. It was all right for Ned to be suddenly so cocksure about it, but she was not at all certain that Hench was innocent. She merely bowed stiffly, and went past Brews, who was holding the door open for her.

  “Well, you two are easily contented,” she said, when they were out of earshot of the cottage. “He didn’t give you an atom of proof.”

  “We’ll prove it to-night,” said Brews, as they reached the car, and added to Ned. “If I were you, sir, I should leave Upperton for the day. Why not take Miss Johnson for a run into the country, and come back in time for dinner.”

  “I don’t think he is safe to go out alone,” said Nancy, smiling. “He might not move his head at the right moment next time.”

  Brews smiled broadly, “Well, I meant both of you to come back here,” he said. “By the way, Mr. Hope, we had a light on the flight of those bonds this morning. The guard of that train says he was looking out of the window of the rear van, and saw a parcel lying on the edge of the six-foot way, about ten yards this side of the Colley railway bridge. Probably it was thrown out just as the train drew in under the arch, and the way of the train carried it on a yard or two.”

  “Then you were right about Mrs. Hoing!” cried Nancy.

  “Looks like it,” said Ned.

  Chapter XXVII

  “ DOES Brews really imagine that Hench had nothing to do with it?” Nancy asked, as Ned drove her towards Cambridge.

  “He does, and I am inclined to do,” said Ned. “The fact is, old thing, that I spent an hour this morning trying to pump Brews, and he was as dry as a draw-well after a drought. All I can get out of him is this: He thinks the fact that I was attacked last night shows that my guess about the bonds was correct. The hider had seen me with the spade and got on my tracks, meaning to put me out before I could find them.”

  “Well, I think he is right. But surely it is easy to prove, Ned. All they have to do is to dig.”

  “They are going to. Brews said Hoggett was to dig to the bottom of the hide.”

  “But how will that show who hid the bonds?”

  “Heaven knows, my dear! Perhaps there may be finger-prints on the parcel, or the bonds themselves. I leave that to Brews. I am quite prepared to find that Brews wants us away, to make his dramatic coup, and exhibit it to us on our return.”

  Nancy nodded. “He’s a brainy beast, Ned.”

  “Absolutely. I underrated him at first, but after this I give him the Palmer without hesitation. He admits we helped, and that’s more than I thought he would do. I gather that my brain wave about the batteries of the car being exhausted is my chief merit. We’ll see how that has panned out when we come back.”

  They drove rapidly down to Cambridge, and had lunch on arrival. Then Ned took Nancy to see the ‘Backs,’ and afterwards out to Grantchester to revive memories of Rupert Brooke, and have tea.

  But, in all their sight-seeing, they could not get quite away from the Fen Court mystery. Both of them were determined loyally to observe their compact with Inspector Brews, to return at six and not before, and their growing excitement and anxiety to know what had happened in their absence, made the intervening hours drag.

  At a quarter-past five they climbed into the car.

  “If Brews disappoints me, I’ll kill him!” Ned announced.

  He drove fast. The sun would soon set. Already the flat country was gilded by the low rays of the sun in the west, and the mists were beginning to creep over the land.

  They were silent going back. The end of the case was in sight, and they were at once relieved and regretful. Nancy sat close to Ned. Since last night she had felt more intimately concerned with him than ever before. Her emotion that morning when the train pulled into Upperton Station had been a revelation, too. Short of living with Ned at Fen Court——

  There she pulled up in her vagrant romancings. How merciful it was that people couldn’t tell one’s innermost thoughts. If Ned only knew!

  They drove on, Ned’s foot now well-down on the accelerator.

  Inspector Brews’s compliments, sir, and would you and the lady wait in for him here after dinner, said the landlord of the ‘Blue Boar,’ when Ned and his companion got down from the car, and entered the inn. “He left a note for you too, sir,” he added, as Ned nodded assent.

  “Thank you. We’ll wait,” the latter agreed, taking the note. “You might give us dinner at seven. We’ll go into the coffee-room now.”

  In the coffee-room, which looked cheerful enough with its blazing log-fire, Ned sat down to look at the note from the inspector. It was brief but pregnant.

  “Don’t please go away till I come. It may be later than I expect. But there is quite a chance that I may have some news for you of the greatest importance. If so, you may wish to drive to London at once to give it to your paper. There will be no other journalist in the know.”

  “Awfully generous of him to hand me a scoop for nothing,” said Ned, as he passed the note to Nancy, and lit a cigarette. “Does that mean an arrest, or does it not?”

  She looked across at him eagerly. “It does, of course. I don’t care about the scoop, but I shall be glad if they can catch that rotten murderer. It doesn’t look like your having a hand in the coup though, Ned.”

  He shrugged. “Well, I can’t help it. The police can do what they like, and I am an outsider after all. I can’t butt in unless they are willing.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, I’m not grumbling. We’ll wait, however late it is.”

  The ‘Blue Boar’ gave them a better dinner than they had expected—soup, a sole, excellent beef, with Yorkshire pudding, a tart, and Stilton cheese; sound English food decently cooked. After dinner they ordered coffee, and it had just been served to them when another visitor entered.

  At the sight of him Nancy gave a little involuntary gasp, and Ned stared. It was Mr. Hench, who looked nervous and ill-at ease, as he shut the door behind him, and hesitated just inside.

  Ned jumped up and rang a bell. “Sit down, Mr. Hench,” he said, politely. “We’re going to have coffee. Will you have a cup with us?”

  Nancy bit her lip, but said nothing. Mr. Hench replied gratefully that a cup would be very welcome. It was dreadfully cold outside now.

  “I had a visit from the inspector,” he added, as he took a seat near Ned. “He suggested that I should come over and spend the evening here with you, I hope I don’t intrude?”

  Ned suppressed a burning desire to ask what Brews meant by pushing the little man on to them, but he replied calmly enough, “Yes, that’s all right. Brews knows his business. Have a gasper?”

  Hench accepted a cigarette as the waiter came in.

  “Another cup. This gentleman is having coffee with us,” said Ned.

  “Yes, sir. Immediately, sir.”

  “I don’t really know what the inspector is up to,” said Hench to Nancy timidly.

  “I am sorry I can’t help you there,” she replied, rather coldly.

  Ned gave her a significant glance. “We’ll know in good time,” he said. “Did you hear that they were going to dig up the hole you filled up in the marsh, Mr. Hench?” he added.

  “What for?” Mr. Hench’s face wore a puzzled look. He stretched out his legs towards the fire, and stared thoughtfully at his feet.

  But it was obvious that he was neither alarmed nor anxious. The exploration in the abandoned “hide” did not appear to interest him. Mere appearances might have gone for nothing had he been a better actor, but they had already seen that the little man was no expert in hiding his emotions.

  “Looking for the stolen Bearer Bonds, I imagine,” Ned murmured, as the waiter came in with another cup. “Nancy, will you pour out coffee for Mr. Hench, please.”

  Nancy’s rather stern face relaxed. She was still very much interested in studying Mr. Hench, but much less convinced of his complicity in the murders.

  “Sugar?” she said, poising a lump.

  “Thank you,” replied Hench, and added, as the waiter closed the door. “The Bearer Bonds? But surely no one would put them there?”

  Ned shrugged. “That is the theory anyway. At a guess, I should say that is why Brews asked you to come on here. He wants every one out of the way while he investigates.”

  Hench stared. “How extraordinary! I thought his request very odd, but imagined from the way he put it that you had suggested——”

  “Brews has his own way of doing things,” Ned interrupted. “You must know now that he suspected some one had been in your cottage that night while you were over at Hitherland.”

  “I see that now. But how could they—they know I was out?”

  “He, or they, may have watched you go.”

  Hench nodded. “Of course it may be that. I was rather worried, as you know. I am afraid I was rather less helpful than I might have been on that account.”

  “I am afraid so,” said Nancy. Surely, Mr. Hench, “you might have realised that the mere fact that you knew Mr. Habershon would not involve you in the murders?”

  He bit his lip. “I ought to have thought of that. But I was the only one he knew, and the whole thing upset me very much. I am not used to things of that kind. I couldn’t even say that I knew some one had been in my cottage. I merely thought so, but I could not prove it. To this day I can’t imagine what they wanted there.”