the road by Brixham coast-guard station; but I lifted the motor
bicycle over it and presently ascended to the cliffs of Berry Head.
Fate favoured me in details, for, despite the hour, there were
witnesses to every step of the route; I even passed a fisher lad,
descending from the lighthouse for a doctor, where no witness might
have been hoped for or expected. Thus my course was followed and
each stage of the long journey correctly recorded.

On the cliff I emptied my sack, cast its stuffing to the winds,
fastened my handbag to the bicycle, thrust the bloodstained sack
into a rabbit hole, where it could not fail to be discovered, and
then returned to Robert Redmayne's lodging at Paignton. There a
telegram had already been sent informing the landlady of his return
that night. The place and its details I had gleaned from Redmayne
himself; therefore I knew where he kept his machine and, having put
it in its shed, entered the house about three o'clock with his
latchkey and ate the ample meal left for his consumption. Only a
widow and her servant occupied the dwelling and they slept soundly
enough.

I did not venture to seek Bob's bedroom, for I knew not where it
might lie; but I changed into the serge suit, cap and brown shoes of
Doria and packed Redmayne's clothes, tweeds and showy waistcoat,
boots and stockings into my handbag with the wig and mustaches and
my weapon. Soon after four o'clock I left--a clean-shorn, brown
sailorman: "Giuseppe Doria," of immortal memory.

It was now light, but Paignton slumbered and I did not pass a
policeman until half a mile from the watering-place. Having admired
the dawn over Torquay, I walked to Newton Abbot and reached that