remain here for the night, however, and Stafford will come back early in
the morning and go more thoroughly into things--I suppose there'll have
to be a search of the neighbourhood."

They had walked slowly up a path on the side of the cliff as they talked,
and now the girl stopped before a small cottage which stood at the end of
the churchyard, set in a tree-shaded garden, and looking out on the bay.
She laid her hand on the gate, glancing at Copplestone, and suddenly she
spoke, a little impulsively.

"Will you come in and speak to my mother?" she said. "She was a great
admirer of Mr. Oliver's acting--and she knew him at one time. She will be
interested--and grieved."

Copplestone followed her up the garden and into the house, where she led
the way into a small old-fashioned parlour in which a grey-haired woman,
who had once been strikingly handsome, and whose face seemed to the
visitor to bear traces of great trouble, sat writing at a bureau. She
turned in surprise as her daughter led Copplestone in, but her manner
became remarkably calm and collected as Audrey explained who he was and
why he was there. And Copplestone, watching her narrowly, fancied that he
saw interest flash into her eyes when she heard of Bassett Oliver's
remark to the fisherman. But she made no comment, and when Audrey had
finished the story, she turned to Copplestone as if she had already
summed up the situation.

"We know this place so well--having lived here so long, you know," she
said, "that we can make a fairly accurate guess at what Mr. Oliver might
do. There seems no doubt that he went up the path to the Keep. According
to Mr. Marston Greyle's statement, he certainly did not go to the house.