"I didn't, sir," replied Mrs. Summers. "I never asked him a question all
the time he was here. I thought that if I was correct in what I fancied,
I should hear him say something. But he never did say anything of that
sort--all the same, I felt more and more certain that he did know the
place. And during the time he was here, he went about in it in a fashion
that convinced me that my ideas were right. He was in and around the
church a great deal--the vicar and the parish clerk can tell you more
about his visits there than I can--and he was at the old moot-hall
several times, looking over certain old things they keep there, and he
visited Ellingham Park twice, and was shown over the house. And before
he'd been here two days I came to a certain conclusion about him, and
I've had it ever since, though he never said one word, or did one thing
that could positively confirm me in it."

"Yes!" exclaimed Mr. Pawle. "And that, ma'am, was--"

"That he was somebody who disappeared from Marketstoke thirty-five years
ago," answered the landlady, "disappeared completely, and has never been
heard of from that day to this!"

Mr. Pawle turned slowly and looked at Viner. He nodded his head several
times, then turned to Mrs. Summers and regarded her fixedly.

"And that somebody?" he asked in hushed accents. "Who was he?"

The landlady smoothed her silk apron and shook her head.

"It's a long story, sir," she answered. "I think you must have heard
something of it--though to be sure, it was not talked of much at the
time, and didn't become public until legal proceedings became necessary,