THE OLD PLAYBILL Gilling's cheerful optimism was the sort of desirable quality that is a good thing to have, but all the optimism in the world is valueless in face of impregnable difficulty.

And the difficulty of tracing Chatfield and his sick companion in a city the size of Bristol did indeed seem impregnable when Gilling and Copplestone had been attacking it for twenty-four hours.

They had spent a whole day in endeavouring to get news; they had gone in and out of hotels until they were sick of the sight of one; they had made exhaustive inquiries at the railway station and of the cabmen who congregated there; nobody remembered anything at all about a big, heavy-faced man and a man in his company who seemed to be very ill.

And on the second night Copplestone intimated plainly that in his opinion they were wasting their time.
"How do we even know that they ever came to Bristol ?" he asked, as he and Gilling refreshed themselves with a much needed dinner.

"The Falmouth landlord saw Chatfield take tickets for Bristol! That's nothing to go on! Put it to yourself in this way.