, before following his guide into the old tavern, took a quick He had already seen that Selchester was a very small town, divided into four segments by two main streets, one of which ran due south and north, the other due east and west; he was aware from an old map which hung in his bedroom at the "Mitre" that it was enclosed by an ancient wall, running round it in an almost perfect circle.
To one of the gates of this wall, the North Bar, he and Crabbe had now come; the "Lame Hussar" stood just within it; to the right a narrow lane led away in the direction of what appeared to he a belt of woodland, wherein Brixey made out the lines of a high gateway. To this he drew. his companion's attention.
"What's that place?" he asked.
"Entrance to the old Priory grounds, sir," replied Crabbe. "There are ruins, and things in there—sort of show-place, you understand. As far as I could gather, it must have been there that your uncle was making for—and if what I hear is correct he seems to have turned in here. But we'll soon know that."
He led the way into the tavern, and down a sanded passage towards a parlour in the rear. From its open doorway a tall, elderly woman looked out, and at sight of Crabbe beckoned him to come forward. Crabbe ushered Brixey within, and closed the door behind them.
"Evening, Mrs. Crosse," he said. "I got your message, so I thought I'd walk up myself. This gentleman's the nephew of the gentleman that's missing. He's come down from London to find him. Now, what can you tell?"
The landlady, who had silently motioned her callers to seat themselves, shook her head.
"Why, not much, Mr. Crabbe," she answered. "But, of course, it might lead to something. I've no doubt that the gentleman who came in here is the one that your man told me was missing. A stranger to me, anyway, and I know most Selchester folks."
"Describe him," suggested Brixey.
"A tall, well-made gentleman, sixty or thereabouts, I should say; clean-shaved—a sort of professional look on him," answered Mrs. Crosse promptly. "Dressed in a smart grey tweed, and carrying a gold-mounted umbrella. I put him down as one of these tourists that we see so many of in summer. He came into my front room there—the one with the bow-window—about eleven on Tuesday morning, and asked for a glass of my best bitter ale.
"I invited him in here, but he said he'd rather be where he could look down the street. I took the ale in to him, and he stood in the bow-window while he drank it, and talked, casual-like. And then something happened that I've thought of since, though not until your man came in to-night to make inquiries, Mr. Crabbe."
"Well?" asked Crabbe. "And what was it, Mrs. Crosse?"
"Why, this," replied the landlady. "As he stood there in the window, looking out, Mrs. Byfield came round the corner"
"Mrs. Byfield!" exclaimed Crabbe.
"Mrs. Byfield of the Minories," assented Mrs. Crosse, "She came round the corner there out of North Street, and turned down towards them Priory gates. Now, it wasn't no fancy on my part Mr. Crabbe; I saw the gentleman start at the sight of her. He did start. There was no mistaking it. He'd his glass in his hand at the time, and he set it down and looked at me.
"'Who's that lady, walking there the other side of the lane?' he says. 'Mrs. Byfield, of the Minories, sir,' says I. 'And who's Mrs. Byfield?' says he. 'Mr. Byfield's dead, sir—some time I says. 'He was a retired gentleman.'
"'Ah!' he says, sort of careless-like, but still watching her. 'Fine woman!' 'Has been a very handsome one, sir I says. 'I remember her when she first came to the town, just after Mr. Byfield married her—which they were married in some foreign place, where they met.' 'Aye?' he says, 'And how long since is that, ma'am?’
"So I thought a bit, 'Well, sir,' I says, 'it’ll be getting on over two-and-twenty years since.' 'A long time, ma’am,' he says, with a laugh. 'We were all younger then.' And he then drank off his ale and bade me good day, and he went out. And, of course, Mr. Crabbe, I’ve never seen him since."
"Which way did he go when he left your house?" asked Brixey.
"Well, I can speak positive as to that, sir," replied the landlady, "for I watched him. He went straight into the Priory grounds—same as Mrs. Byfield had done, a minute or two sooner."
"On her heels, in fact?" suggested Brixey, with a glance at Crabbe.
"On her heels, as you might say, sir," assented Mrs. Crosse. "She’d gone in there, as I’ve often seen her doing of a morning, and he wouldn’t be a couple of minutes after her."
Brixey signed to the inspector and rose. But on his way to the door he looked significantly at the landlady.