question—had Mr. Levigne been there again lately?
"He was in here yesterday morning, fairly early," she answered. "Before this snow started. Come from London by a very early train, I think."
"Staying here, then?" asked Wedgwood.
"No, he's not staying here, this time," replied the barmaid. "He only came in for a few minutes, to have a drink. He'd a cab waiting for him at the door—going to the colliery, I suppose."
Wedgwood presently left the hotel and made his way to the police-superintendent who started at sight of him.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "I was just thinking of you! I say—I believe there's something wrong over there at Mortover Grange. You heard anything—is that what brings you down this awful weather?"
"What have you heard?" demanded Wedgwood.
"Just this! A man—a cattle-drover—came here about four o'clock and said he'd come from that direction, and as he passed Mortover Grange a girl came out to him and asked him if he was going to Netherwell if he'd tell the police that Mrs. Clagne, Mr. Mortover and Mr. Levigne all went out from there late yesterday
