"It's either the chap hisself or his dead spit," was the poacher's dictum.

Then he was cautioned to keep his own counsel as to the incident, and he
went away to get gloriously drunk on half-a-sovereign.

In the seclusion of the sitting-room, Winter related the outcome of his
inquiries. They were negative.

Landlords and barmaids remembered a few commercial travellers by referring
to old lodgers, but they one and all united in the opinion that New Year's
Eve was a most unlikely time for the hotels to contain casual visitors.

"I was afraid it would be a wild-goose chase from the start," opined
Winter.

"Obviously," replied Brett; "yet ten minutes ago you produced a man who
actually watched the murderer for a considerable time that night."

Whilst Winter was searching his wits for a suitable argument, the
barrister continued:

"Where is Fergusson now?"

"I can answer that," exclaimed Hume. "He is my father's butler. When
Capella came to Beechcroft, the old man wrote and said he could not take
orders from an Italian. It was like receiving instructions from a French
cook. So my father brought him to Glen Tochan."

"Then your father must send him to London. He may be very useful. I