The next hour passed pleasantly enough; there was plenty for the cousins to discuss, and Roger had not by any means yet got over his elation at triumphing over the inspector. He talked at considerable length. The second hour passed more slowly. By a quarter to twelve both were frankly yawning.
At ten minutes past twelve the buzz of a distant engine heralded Inspector Moresby’s return. They heard him pushing his bicycle round into the yard at the back, and then his heavy tread on the stairs outside.
“Thought you’d gone for the night,” Roger greeted him. “Well, was I right? Has Colin bolted for the Continent?”
“He has, sir,” replied the inspector, shutting the door and advancing into the room.
“Ah!” said Roger, not without satisfaction.
The inspector was looking decidedly grim. He did not return to his chair, but stood in the middle of the room, looking down on the other two. “I’m afraid I’ve got bad news for you, Mr. Walton,” he said slowly. “Mr. Woodthorpe hasn’t gone alone.”
Anthony stared at him. “What do you mean?” he asked, in a curiously high voice.
The inspector looked still more grim. “Miss Cross has gone with him,” he said shortly.
Chapter XXVI.
Caustic Soda
“Miss Cross!” exclaimed Roger.