Silence fell again, and they walked out on to the road. Pools of
afternoon rain still lay here and there in the depressions, but Joicey
took no heed of them, and splashed on, staining his white trousers with
liquid mud.

"By the way," he said, clearing his throat as though his words stuck
there, "have you heard anything more in connection with the
disappearance of that boy you were talking of the other evening?"

Hartley did not reply for a moment, and just as he was about to speak,
Mrs. Wilder's car passed, and Mrs. Wilder leaned forward to smile at the
Head of the Police; a small buggy followed with some more friends of
Hartley's, and then another car, and the road was clear again.

"I believe I am on the right track, but I don't like it, Joicey. I'm
damned if I do."

"Why not?"

"It comes too close to home,"--Hartley spoke with a jerk. "A hateful
job--I thought I'd tell you--" He spoke in broken sentences, and his
words affected the Banker very perceptibly.

"Can't you drop it?"

Joicey came to a standstill, and his voice was lowered almost to a
whisper.

"I wish to Heaven I could, but it's a question of duty,"--he could