"He was in here having his tea at six o'clock that evening, and he went away to the shop when he'd had it, and I never put my eyes on him again, alive, your honour.

He was never home that night, and he didn't come to his breakfast next morning, and he wasn't at the shop--and I never heard this or that of him till they come and tell me the bad news." I knew then what must have happened.

After I had left him, Crone had gone away up the river towards Tillmouth--he had a crazy old bicycle that he rode about on.

And most people, having heard Nance Maguire's admissions, would have said that he had gone poaching.

But I was not so sure of that.
I was beginning to suspect that Crone had played some game with me, and had not told me anything like the truth during our conversation.