VI.
He was gone. His last words had considerably alarmed George. No time was to be lost. All was working with a magic expediency, but the Rose must not be risked in the vicinity of one of these needle-observing detectives. She must be hurried away.
“Uncle,” George said, “I did not say it while the detective was here—I do not wish to raise your hopes; but I believe I have a clue. Do not question me,” he added, raising a hand in terror lest Mr. Marrapit should begin examination. “I promise nothing. My ideas may be wholly imaginary. But I believe—I believe—oh, I believe I have a clue.”
Mr. Marrapit rushed for the bell. “Recall the detective! You should have spoken. I will send Fletcher in pursuit.”
George seized his uncle's arm. “On no account. That is why I did not speak before. I am convinced I can do better alone.”
“You do not convince me. You are an amateur. We must have the skilled mind. Let me ring.”
George was in terror. “No, no; do you not see it may be waste of time? Let me at least make sure, then I will tell the detective. Meanwhile let him pursue other clues. Why send the trained mind on what may be a goose-chase?”
The argument had effect. Mr. Marrapit dropped into a chair.
George explained. To follow the clue necessitated, he said, instant departure—by train. He would write fullest details; would wire from time to time if necessary. His uncle must trust him implicitly. The detective must not be told until he gave the word.
Eager to clutch at any hope, Mr. Marrapit clutched at this. George was given money for expenses; at eight o'clock left the house. There had been no opportunity for words with his Mary. She did not even know that Mr. Marrapit had refused the money that was to mean marriage and Runnygate; she had not even danced with her George upon his success in his examination. Leaving the household upon his desperate clue, George could do no more than before them all bid her formal farewell. At half-past eight he is cramming the peerless Rose of Sharon into a basket taken from Mr. Fletcher's outhouses; at nine the villain is tramping the railway platform, in agony lest his burden shall mi-aow; at ten the monster is at Dippleford Admiral; at eleven the traitor is asleep in the bedroom of an inn, the agitated Rose uneasily slumbering upon his bed.