And the police would want to know how it came to be in that quarry.

Curse it!--was ever anything so unfortunate!--however could he have so far lost his head as to forget it?
He was half tempted to rise in the middle of the night and set out for the moors, to find it.

But the night was dark, and solitary as the moors and the quarry where he dared not risk the taking of a lantern.

And so he racked his brains in the effort to think of some means of explaining the presence of the stick.

He hit on a notion at last--remembering suddenly that Stoner had carried neither stick nor umbrella.