Breton, a barrister."

The landlady, hearing their names and description, pointed to a side
door, and signed Rathbury and his companions to pass through. Obeying
her pointed finger, they found themselves in a small private parlour.
Walters closed the two doors which led into it and looked at his
principal visitor.

"What is it, Mr. Rathbury?" he enquired. "Anything wrong?"

"We want a bit of information," answered Rathbury, almost with
indifference.

"Did anybody of the name of Marbury put up here yesterday--elderly man,
grey hair, fresh complexion?"

Mrs. Walters started, glancing at her husband.

"There!" she exclaimed. "I knew some enquiry would be made. Yes--a Mr.
Marbury took a room here yesterday morning, just after the noon train
got in from Southampton. Number 20 he took. But--he didn't use it last
night. He went out--very late--and he never came back."

Rathbury nodded. Answering a sign from the landlord, he took a chair
and, sitting down, looked at Mrs. Walters.

"What made you think some enquiry would be made, ma'am?" he asked. "Had
you noticed anything?"

Mrs. Walters seemed a little confused by this direct question. Her