At length, a little after sunset, I found myself in view of the sea. A
small town nestled below the cliffs, on which I was guiding my weary
horse. I entered the town, and while my horse was baiting went in search
of the resident policeman. The information I had directed to be sent
round the country had reached him; he had acted on it, but without result.
I was surprised to hear him address me by name, and looking at him more
narrowly, I recognized him for the policeman Waby. This young man had
always expressed so grateful a sense of my attendance on his sister, and
had, indeed, so notably evinced his gratitude in prosecuting with Margrave
the inquiries which terminated in the discovery of Sir Philip Derval's
murderer, that I confided to him the name of the wanderer, of which he had
not been previously informed; but which it would be, indeed, impossible to
conceal from him should the search in which his aid was asked prove
successful,--as he knew Miss Ashleigh by sight. His face immediately
became thoughtful. He paused a minute or two, and then said,--

"I think I have it, but I do not like to say; I may pain you, sir."

"Not by confidence; you pain me by concealment."

The man hesitated still: I encouraged him, and then he spoke out frankly.

"Sir, did you never think it strange that Mr. Margrave should move from
his handsome rooms in the hotel to a somewhat uncomfortable lodging, from
the window of which he could look down on Mrs. Ashleigh's garden? I have
seen him at night in the balcony of that window, and when I noticed him
going so frequently into Mrs. Ashleigh's house during your unjust
detention, I own, sir, I felt for you--"

"Nonsense! Mr. Margrave went to Mrs. Ashleigh's house as my friend. He