Some poaching case, no doubt? said I, with an indifferent manner.

Ha, ha, my boy, a very much more important matter than that! What about the convict on the moor?

I started. You don't mean that you know where he is? said I.

I may not know exactly where he is, but I am quite sure that I could help the police to lay their hands on him. Has it never struck you that the way to catch that man was to find out where he got his food, and so trace it to him?

He certainly seemed to be getting uncomfortably near the truth. No doubt, said I; but how do you know that he is anywhere upon the moor?

I know it because I have seen with my own eyes the messenger who takes him his food.

My heart sank for Barrymore. It was a serious thing to be in the power of this spiteful old busybody. But his next remark took a weight from my mind.

You'll be surprised to hear that his food is taken to him by a child. I see him every day through my telescope upon the roof. He passes along the same path at the same hour, and to whom should he be going except to the convict?

Here was luck indeed! And yet I suppressed all appearance of interest. A child! Barrymore had said that our unknown was supplied by a boy. It was on his track, and not upon the convict's, that Frankland had stumbled. If I could get his knowledge it might save me a long and weary hunt. But incredulity and indifference were evidently my strongest cards.