Chapter 39

“You ain’t half got an imagination, guv’nor, have you? But I take it you’re one of the town-bred lot—meaning no offence. Put you down in the country at night, and you begin to see things that ain’t there—and hear things that ain’t real. Murder! Who’s going to murder anyone here?” He laughed again. “I don’t suppose anyone ever comes to a place like this at night,” he went on. “And yet it’s a rum thing. I was bicycling along that road late last night—been seeing some friends of mine—and it seemed to me as if there wa…