"The fools!" exclaimed Medland. "I must go, Chief Justice."
"Why, what can you do?"
"Stop it, of course. Here, drive to the prison
—drive like fury. Good-bye, Chief Justice. Come and see me soon. Get on, man, get on!"
The old horse was whipped up unmercifully, and the Chief Justice watched Medland disappear in a cloud of dust. He took off his hat to wipe his brow. Two little fragments of the white paper which Medland scattered had settled upon it.
"Poof!" The Chief Justice blew them off and they fluttered down on the grass. He stooped and picked up the larger bit. If he had looked at it, he would have read "Good-bye"; but he did not. The amber end of his cigarette-tube was loose: he unscrewed it, twisted the little bit of paper round the screw, and fitted the end on again.
"Capital!" said the Chief Justice. "It might have been made for it. Poor old Medland!"