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From them he ascertained that the house in which he found himself was called The Mill House, and was situated two and a half miles from the station of Wentfield on the Great Eastern Railway in Essex. Mr. Bellward had taken the place some eight years before, having moved there from the Surrey hills, but had been wont to spend not more than two months in the year there.
At this stage in the report there was a note to the effect that the rector of Wentfield had called twice at The Mill House but had not found Mr. Bellward at home, and that his visits had not been returned. There were also some opinions apparently culled locally regarding the tenant of the Mill House, set out something in this wise:
"Walked all the way up from Wentfield Station, too, sir, and that cold she was when she arrived here, fair blue with the cold she was, pore dear. D'reckly she open her lips, I sees she's a furrin' lady, sir. She asks after you and I tells her as how you are away and won't be back till this evening.
Bellward and the woman mounted after her while Strangwise, after starting the engine, sprang into the driving-seat outside. With a low hum the big car glided forth into the cold, starry night. From the upper floor of the Dyke Inn came the sound of a woman's terrified sobs. Below there reigned the silence of death. Desmond drove to Wentfield Station in an angry and defiant mood.
"Landlord of the Red Lion, Wentfield: The gentleman has never been to the Red Lion, but sometimes orders my Ford car and always pays regularly. "The Stationmaster at Wentfield: A gentleman who keeps himself to himself but very liberal with his money. "Sir Marsham Dykes, of The Chase, Stanning: A damned unsociable churlish fellow. "Mr. Tracy Wentfield, of the Channings, Home Green: A very rude man.
And then she tells me as how she come all the way from Lunnon and walked up from the station. As well you know, sir, the last train up leaves Wentfield Station at five minutes to nine, and so the pore young lady couldn't get back that night. So here she had to stop. I got the spare room ready for her and lit a nice fire and all, but she wouldn't go to bed not until she had seen you.
You see, I knew that old Hill left here about dusk every afternoon, so I guessed the coast would be clear. "Clarkson's fitted me out with the duds and the make-up and I got down to Wentfield by half-past six. The fog was so infernally thick that it took me more than an hour to get here on foot. It must have been close on eight o'clock when I pushed open your front gate.
By the way, what had Mortimer done with his car? A very faint throbbing somewhere outside answered Desmond's unspoken question. Mortimer flung aside his paper. "Isn't that a car?" he asked, "that'll be they. I sent Max to Wentfield station to meet our friends!" There was the sound of voices, of bustle in the hall. Then the door opened and a man came in.
To the right, Desmond caught a glimpse of a ghostly spire sticking out of some trees and guessed that this was Wentfield Church. In front of him the distant roar of a passing train showed where the Great Eastern Railway line lay. More depressed than ever by the utter desolation of the scene, Desmond turned to retrace his steps to the house.
"I wash my hands of the whole thing," Desmond declared, as he paced the platform at Wentfield waiting for his train. "As Francis is so precious cocksure about it all, let him carry on in my place! He's welcome to the Chief's wiggings! The Chief won't get me to do his dirty work again in a hurry! That's flat!"
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