grey stone, half hidden in the grass, and only just saved himself from falling.
"Remains of some old cromlech," explained the Doctor. "Somewhere about here, if we were to dig down, we should find a withered bundle of bones crouching over the dust of a prehistoric luncheon-basket. Interesting neighbourhood!"
The descent was rough. The Doctor did not talk again until we had reached the outskirts of the village.
"I wonder what's become of them?" mused the Doctor. "A rum go, the whole thing. I should like to have got to the bottom of it."
We had reached the Doctor's gate. The Doctor pushed it open and passed in. He seemed to have forgotten me.
"A taking little minx," I heard him muttering to himself as he fumbled with the door. "And no doubt meant well. But as for that cock-and-bull story———"
I pieced it together from the utterly divergent versions furnished me by the Professor and the Doctor, assisted, so far as later incidents are concerned, by knowledge common to the village.
6
