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“We did nothing,” the old lady protested. “It was a joy to have you and——”

“Alone and lonely as I was,” Tarneverro interrupted, “it was great luck to come upon people like these. You can imagine my delight when I ran across them again at this hotel the other day.” He rose. “I take it that is all you wanted to know, Mr. Chan. I'd like to have a talk with you.”

“That is all,” remarked Chan, rising too. “Lady,—sir,—may vacation continue as happy as it is this bright morning on undescribably lovely beach. I am so pleased that our paths met here at famous crossroads.”

“We share that pleasure, sir,” MacMaster replied. His wife nodded and smiled. “We'll be thinking of ye as we travel on to Aberdeen. Our very best wishes for success.”

Charlie and the fortune-teller went inside, and sat down on a sofa. “You are favorite of the gods,” Chan remarked. “If I needed alibi I would ask nothing better than word from honest people such as those.”

Tarneverro smiled. “Yes—they’re a grand pair. Simple and wholesome and addicted to all the old virtues.” He paused. “Well, Inspector, you know where I was during those vital eighteen minutes. How about the others?”

“I know also where Robert Fyfe was,” Charlie replied, “though much about his actions puzzles me. Speaking of the rest, they have no such luck. Not one has offered alibi.”

Tarneverro nodded. “Yes—and one among them may need an alibi badly before this affair is ended. You had, I take it, no flash of inspiration in the night?”