We shook hands, and in a few seconds we heard him starting his motor—or rather, the Super-car that I conclude he had borrowed, or "wangled," or whatever he calls it, from one of his many wealthy friends. Through the window I caught a flashing glimpse of this hedge-sparrow-blue car with her silver mascot whizzing past—on the road to Lewes.
This was odd, I thought.
For there was no doubt that when we pulled up at the inn, that car's nose had been towards home, and London.
Then we, too, started off for Lewes, and the inquiries we had to make there.
This was when I discovered that Mr. Jessop and I were, as I've said, "shadowed."
Mr. Burke, in that gorgeous car of his, had evidently determined, for some obscure reason, not to lose sight of us.
We overtook him, tooling leisurely along, a mile this side of Uckfield.
We waved; we caught a cheery gleam of his white teeth and black-lashed blue eyes. I thought that would be the last of him. Oh, dear, no. A quarter of a mile further on he appeared to the right by some cross-road. And from then on he and the light-blue car kept appearing and disappearing in our field of vision.
At one moment the light-blue and silver gleam of his motor would flash through the midsummer green of trees overshadowing some lane ahead of us. Again he would appear a little behind and to the left. Presently, again, to the right....
"That friend of yours seems to know the country considerable well," remarked the American to me. "Looks like as if he was chasing butterflies all over it. Is he a great Nature-lover, Miss Smith?"