Barleyfield, who was patronized by all the well-to-do folk of the
neighbourhood. He smiled and bowed as Viner entered the room, and turned
to Miss Wickham as if suggesting that she should explain his presence.

"Oh, Mr. Viner!" said Miss Wickham, "I'm so sorry to send for you so
hurriedly, but Mr. Barleyfield came to tell us that he could give some
information about Mr. Ashton, and as Mr. Pawle isn't available, and I
don't like to send for a police-inspector, I thought that you, perhaps--"

"To be sure!" said Viner. "What is it, Mr. Barleyfield?"

Mr. Barleyfield, who had obviously attired himself in his Sunday raiment
for the purposes of his call, and had further shown respect for the
occasion by wearing a black cravat, smiled as he looked from the two
ladies to Viner.

"Well, Mr. Viner," he answered, "I'll tell you what it is--it may help a
bit in clearing up things, for I understand there's a great deal of
mystery about Mr. Ashton's death. Now, I'm told, sir, that
nobody--especially these good ladies--knows nothing about what the
deceased gentleman used to do with himself of an evening--as a rule. Just
so. Well, you know, Mr. Viner, a tradesman like myself generally knows a
good deal about the people of his neighbourhood. I knew Mr. Ashton very
well indeed--he was a good customer of mine, and sometimes he'd stop and
have a bit of chat with me. And I can tell you where he very often spent
an hour or two of an evening."

"Yes--where?" asked Viner.

"At the Grey Mare Inn, sir," answered Barleyfield promptly. "I have often