the country, and hasn’t been seen since.”

“Well,” said Derrick slowly, “that’s the man you found in the cottage, the late gardener of Beech Lodge, and I’ve engaged him to work for me. Can you guess why, constable?”

The policeman’s mouth opened wide. “But he’s the one who the sergeant thinks—” He broke off confusedly, while over his face spread a look of dawning astonishment and admiration. “By George, sir, but you’ve done a bold thing, and there’s not many would have done it. Perhaps you’re on the right track. But what brought the fellow here again into the middle of it?”

Derrick smiled grimly. “Now you’re asking too much. We haven’t come to that yet, and there’s no immediate hurry. Main thing is, he’s here and settled for the present. That gives one time to think. As for my end of it, I may be on the right track, and I may not. At any rate, I’m going to make a push for it. So far, I’m trying to piece some of the bits together, and Martin’s arrival is one of them. There’s bound to be a good deal more. So don’t disturb our friend in the cottage, for I fancy he’ll be rather badly needed. And, look here, do you think the sergeant will be willing to have a talk about this matter?”

“If you’re on the track of the man who killed Mr. Millicent, the sergeant would walk twenty miles to see you. I think he dreams about that case every night. It’s a sort of reflection on the police force of Bamberley. It hurts him. That’s the way he feels still.”

“Good! But perhaps it would be better if I went to see him. I’ll do that within the next few weeks. Meantime do you have to report this visit?”

“Only that the cottage is occupied with your authority. That takes it off our special list of empty buildings.”

“I’d be glad if it went no further than that, and the sergeant will agree with me there. Good night, officer. I shall sleep peacefully now, thanks to you. You can’t take a drink, I suppose?”

The big man smiled ruefully. “No, sir; thanks just the same. I think you’ll be a welcome visitor at the station. Good night, and I’ll slip past the cottage without disturbing our friend.”

He saluted, the French window closed behind him without a sound, and his great bulk melted into the darkness.

CHAPTER IV JEAN

JEAN

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