Lenoir was obliged to give it up for a bad job.
Suddenly a singular idea shot into his head.
The hay cart!
What if Herbert Murray had got into it unseen and was there now, without his presence being suspected by the waggoner?
Lenoir reflected for a moment.
Then he darted down the stairs in pursuit of the waggon.
"Hullo, there, driver!" he shouted.
The waggoner looked over his shoulder and recognised Lenoir.
So he whipped up.
The best pace that even a stout team of horses could put on, with a big load of hay behind them was not to say racehorse speed, so the coiner soon caught them up.