CHAPTER XXXIII

THE TRAP THAT FAILED TEN o’clock was striking from Chichester cathedral when the tramp, who half an hour ago had been peering and prying into the secrets of Griff Towers, made his appearance in the market-place. His clothes were even more dusty and soiled, and a policeman who saw him stood squarely in his path. “On the road?” he asked. “Yes,” whined the man. “You can get out of Chichester as quick as you like,” said the officer. “Are you looking for a bed?” “Yes, sir.” “Why don’t you try the casual ward at the work…