"I wonder if you can give me some information?" he asked presently, when the good-looking landlady had attended to their requests for refreshment. "I suppose you are the landlady—Mrs. Wooler? Well, now, Mrs. Wooler, did you have a tall, handsome, slightly grey-haired gentleman in here to lunch yesterday—say about one o'clock?"
The landlady turned on her questioner with an intelligent smile.
"You mean Mr. Oliver, the actor?" she said.
"Good!" exclaimed Stafford, with a hearty sigh of relief. "I do! You know him, then?"
"I've often seen him, both at Northborough and at Norcaster," replied Mrs. Wooler. "But I never saw him here before yesterday. Oh, yes! of course I knew him as soon as he walked in, and I had a bit of chat with him before he went out, and he remarked that though he'd been coming into these parts for some years, he'd never been to Scarhaven before—usually, he said, he'd gone inland of a Sunday, amongst the hills. Oh, yes, he was here—he had lunch here."
"We're seeking him," said Stafford, going directly to the question. "He ought to have turned up at the 'Angel Hotel' at Norcaster last night, and at the theatre today at noon—he did neither. I'm his business manager, Mrs. Wooler. Now can you tell us anything—more than you've already told, I mean?"
The landlady, whose face expressed more and more concern as Stafford spoke, shook her head.
"I can't!" she answered. "I don't know any
