He looked like a good-natured, happy boy, and it was his métier to impress upon all those with whom he associated that he was precisely what he seemed, and no more. His dimples and blue eyes were worth a great deal to him, in creating this impression; and soon the villagers and peasants of the neighbourhood began to regard it as a huge joke that such a jolly youth as Gaylor should be a member of the London police force. They liked talking with him, and spoke out their opinions and theories more freely than they would to a person whose age and dignity they had need to respect.
The first thing that Gaylor did on coming down to pursue his investigations near Riding St. Mary, was to go straight to the Home Farm of Riding Wood and call on Mrs. Barnard. It was about tea time, and Tom Barnard was in the house. Both looked at the detective with cold disapproval, as he presented himself at the door, for they recognized him at once as the man who had cajoled their little girl, behind their backs, into making statements which had got friends of theirs into trouble. They had seen him on the second day of the inquest, when Poppet's evidence had been taken; and now Tom's first words, gruffly spoken, were: "Well, what's up now, Mr. Detective?"
"I've come to tell you that I'm sorry if you think me a sneak," said Gaylor frankly. "I had to do it, you know. Once you're in my line, it isn't what you like doing, but what it's your duty to do. And now
