Ashton spent some time here, at your house, the night he was killed. But
when I got to know, I came along to make one or two inquiries."

"Bless me!" said the landlord, who was still staring at the portrait.
"Yes, that's the gentleman, sure enough! I've often wondered who he
was--pleasant, sociable sort, he was, poor fellow. Now I come to think of
it I remember him being in here that night--last time, of course, he was
ever in. He was talking to that gentleman who's just gone; in fact, they
left together."

"They left together, did they!" exclaimed Viner with a sharp glance at
Barleyfield. "Ah! What time was that, now?"

"As near as I can recollect, about ten-fifteen to ten-thirty," answered
the landlord. "They'd been talking together for a good hour in that
corner where they usually sat. But dear me," he went on, looking from one
to the other of his two visitors, "I'm quite sure that gentleman who's
just left doesn't know of this murder! Why, you heard him ask for the
other gentleman, and leave him some cigars that he'd promised!"

"Just so--which makes it all the stranger," said Viner. "Well, I'm much
obliged to you, landlord--and for the time being, just keep the matter
of this talk strictly to yourself. You understand?"

"As you wish, sir," assented the landlord. "I shan't say anything. You
wouldn't like me to find out this gentleman's name? Somebody'll know him.
My own idea is that he lives in this part--he began coming in here of an
evening about a year since."

"No--do nothing at present," said Viner. "The inquiries are only