“Oh, I remember. Well, sir, we will drive on,—that is, after a moment.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Oh, nothing. You said you wanted to see the man before he escaped.”
“Yes, but—”
“And that he might escape by the road.”
“Yes—”
“Well, I was just making that a little bit impracticable. A small pebble in the keyhole and—why, see now, his horse is walking off! Gee! I must have fastened him badly. I shouldn’t wonder if he trotted all the way to town. But it can’t be helped. I can not be supposed to race after him. Are you ready now, sir? I’ll give another shout, then I’ll get in.” And once more the lonely region about echoed with the cry: “Wellgood! I say, Wellgood!”
There was no answer, and the young detective, masking for the nonce as Mr. Grey’s confidential servant, jumped into the buggy, and turned the horse’s head toward C—.
XIX.
THE FACE
The moon was well up when the small boat in which our young detective was seated with Mr. Grey appeared in the bay approaching the so-called manufactory of Wellgood. The looked-for light on the waterside was not there. All was dark except where the windows reflected the light of the moon.