Scarhaven Keep | Page 6

a little way beneath them at the point where the waters of a
narrow stream ran into the bay.
"That looks like an inn," he said. "I think I can make out a sign on the
gable-end. Let's go down there and inquire. He would get here just
about time for lunch, wouldn't he, and he'd probably turn in there.
Also--they may have a telephone there, and you can call up the theatre

at Norcaster and find out if anything's been heard yet."
Stafford smiled approvingly and started out in the direction of the
buildings towards which Copplestone had pointed.
"Excellent notion!" he said. "You're quite a business man--an unusual
thing in authors, isn't it? Come on, then--and that is an inn, too--I can
make out the sign now--The 'Admiral's Arms'--Mary Wooler. Let's
hope Mary Wooler, who's presumably the landlady, can give us some
useful news!"
The "Admiral's Arms" proved to be an old-fashioned, capacious
hostelry, eminently promising and comfortable in appearance, which
stood on the edge of a broad shelf of headland, and commanded a fine
view of the little village and the bay. Stafford and Copplestone, turning
in at the front door, found themselves in a deep, stone-paved hall, on
one side of which, behind a bar window, a pleasant-faced, buxom
woman, silk-aproned and smartly-capped, was busily engaged in
adding up columns of figures in a big account-book. At sight of
strangers she threw open a door and smilingly invited them to walk into
a snugly furnished bar-parlour where a bright fire burned in an open
hearth. Stafford gave his companion a look--this again was just the sort
of old-world place which would appeal to Basset Oliver, supposing he
had come across it.
"I wonder if you can give me some information?" he asked presently,
when the good-looking landlady had attended to their requests for
refreshment. "I suppose you are the landlady--Mrs. Wooler? Well, now,
Mrs. Wooler, did you have a tall, handsome, slightly grey-haired
gentleman in here to lunch yesterday--say about one o'clock?"
The landlady turned on her questioner with an intelligent smile.
"You mean Mr. Oliver, the actor?" she said.
"Good!" exclaimed Stafford, with a hearty sigh of relief. "I do! You
know him, then?"

"I've often seen him, both at Northborough and at Norcaster," replied
Mrs. Wooler. "But I never saw him here before yesterday. Oh, yes! of
course I knew him as soon as he walked in, and I had a bit of chat with
him before he went out, and he remarked that though he'd been coming
into these parts for some years, he'd never been to Scarhaven
before--usually, he said, he'd gone inland of a Sunday, amongst the
hills. Oh, yes, he was here--he had lunch here."
"We're seeking him," said Stafford, going directly to the question. "He
ought to have turned up at the 'Angel Hotel' at Norcaster last night, and
at the theatre today at noon--he did neither. I'm his business manager,
Mrs. Wooler. Now can you tell us anything--more than you've already
told, I mean?"
The landlady, whose face expressed more and more concern as Stafford
spoke, shook her head.
"I can't!" she answered. "I don't know any more. He was here perhaps
an hour or so. Then he went away, saying he was going to have a look
round the place. I expected he'd come in again on his way to the station,
but he never did. Dear, dear! I hope nothing's happened to him--such a
fine, pleasant man. And--"
"And--what?" asked Stafford.
"These cliffs and rocks are so dangerous," murmured Mrs. Wooler. "I
often say that no stranger ought to go alone here. They aren't safe, these
cliffs."
Stafford set down his glass and rose.
"I think you've got a telephone in your hall," he said. "I'll just call up
Norcaster and find out if they've heard anything. If they haven't--"
He shook his head and went out, and Copplestone glanced at the
landlady.
"You say the cliffs are dangerous," he said. "Are they particularly so?"

"To people who don't know them, yes," she replied. "They ought to be
protected, but then, of course, we don't get many tourists here, and the
Scarhaven people know the danger spots well enough. Then again at
the end of the south promontory there, beyond the Keep--"
"Is the Keep that high square tower amongst the woods?" asked
Copplestone.
"That's it--it's all that's left of the old castle," answered Mrs. Wooler.
"Well, off the point beneath that, there's a group of rocks--you'd
perhaps noticed them as you came down from the station? They've
various names--there's the King, the Queen, the Sugar-Loaf, and so on.
At low tide you can walk across to them. And of course, some people
like to climb them. Now, they're particularly dangerous! On the Queen
rock there's a great hole